News and Notes

Food news:
I was watching the Food Network a few days ago and saw this special on garlic. They had a restaurant from San Francisco highlighted which served garlic in everything they served. Well, I guess some of the drinks didn't have garlic. But the ice cream did. As they were showing some of the entrées and other dishes, they actually told you the recipes for the dish they were highlighting. One dish was a garlic and parsley bread dip. Chop parsley and garlic into fine bits and add olive oil, salt, and vinegar as desired. I got hungry for it yesterday as we were shopping and I bought some garlic and parsley. We had (obviously) the other stuff back at home.

So I started chopping garlic and parsley and added it to a bowl. I then poured in the olive oil, some vinegar (white) and some salt. I mixed it up and dipped some California sourdough bread into it. I was rather pleased with my concoction and proceeded to consume mass quantities of bread and dip, largely forgetting that dinner was on schedule to be consumed in the next half hour. Mrs. Sixline had prepared some shredded beef for the better part of two days to go into some fine burritos. She hates it (duh) when I munch and crunch not waiting for dinner because she puts so much effort into making wickedly awesome food. As such, I assured her I'd eat at least one burrito. (Did I mention I went through half a bag of Gardetto's rye bread chips before the garlic and bread dip?)

Then Mrs. Sixline does a number on me and prepares a warm fresh baked cookie smothered with chocolate ice cream. Who can resist that? So I chow down on that.

By this time, the garlic bread is starting to produce gas that results in garlic tasting burps. So I swallow chocolate chip + chocolate ice cream, and revel in the taste for a few moments when all of a sudden garlic comes rumbling up. I manage to get the dessert in my stomach before the burp surfaces and my mouth is filled with garlic again. It was a rather disorienting experience going back and forth between garlic and chocolate, but I didn't stop.

I can only conjecture that Garlic swooped in, planted roots and setup shop in Stomachland when Shredded Beef Burrito landed troops and began the assault. By the time they sat down for peace talks, Shredded Beef Burrito called in troop reinforcements (because both chocolate and burritos are brown) and Garlic began sending for help (the burps.)

I obliged them and went to bed, dreaming of very strange tales which shall be blogged about soon after.

Interent diet

What a week...

I've been doing too much internet browsing and such instead of doing work lately. It makes me feel useless and slothful. Since the outcome of my education is directly dependent on the output of research and literal work I accomplish, I felt it necessary to really begin chipping away at the large tasks before me. No internet (aside from chatting with friends-- I'm not inhuman, you know). This means no blogging, no message board participation, no ESPN.com scores/articles, no news.google.com, no random browsing of Wiki, no fish stuff, no nothing. Nada. Rien. Zip. Nil.

The results have been mixed.

On one hand, I'm getting tremendous amounts of work done (in comparison to previous quotas.) On the other hand, I'm kind of cranky. Work is more intense, I concentrate more, and I play less. I come away feeling like I'm not having any fun because I'm not doing exactly what I want when I want. (I am an adult, aren't I?) I also end up more tired and mentally exhausted because what used to take me a day or to complete takes me one day. You'd be amazed how much you can get done when you stick to the task rather than stopping every 10-15 minutes to see what your message board has to say.

So posts will probably be one a week from here on out. It feels weird, and I'm already suffering pangs of hunger from this internet diet.

sister site

A type-o led me to my sister site:

sixline.blogpsot.com

Very informative.

why uncle sixline doesn't belong in the upper crust

I like classical music. A lot. I like opera music. A lot. Don't ask me to identify it, or tell you my favorite. I have no clue. I can turn on classical music of any kind and really like it. I especially like Mozart's Requiem. I bought a CD of it off amazon.com. It was $9, shipped to my hizzy. I nicked the mp3s off the web, and it's high time I paid for them. (10 down, and about 1000 more to go...)

At any rate, when I shared this news with a friend of mine who's partaken of the upper crust having been an opera singer from New York. (It's also reported that she wears a monocle from time to time, but these rumors have yet to be confirmed.)

Her reaction was typical of 'her type.' (The cultured type.)

Her: Who directs it?
Me: Huh? I'm not sure, but Berlin Philharmonic performs it. (I only knew that having read the description on Amazon.
Her: I don't trust anyone other than Neville McStuffyshirt with Mozart. (OK, so his name isn't McStuffyshirt. But he's British, cultured, involved with upper crust music types, and is probably vitriolic against Americans.)

The problem with the upper crust is that they wish it was the Dark Ages again. When Lords were Lords, Vassals were Vassals, and Serfs were guys like me.

Looks like it's back to potty humor and other low-brow activities for me.

Gandalf's Wisdom

Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends.

The first time I heard that quote it really stuck with me. I don't consider myself a judgmental person, but I think I've been too hasty (eager, perhaps?) in dealing out judgment. One of the redeeming virtues of the Atonement is that Christ did suffer all things in order to understand them fully. His judgments are not one-sided. Complex issues are easier for us to understand if we can dismiss the facets and aspects that don't fit our current mindset and style. There's simply less to cope with.

Humans form opinions. For whatever reason, we like to pat ourselves on the back and be proud that we have a firm handle on things. We know the right answer; and relatively little changes our mind. The natural man is unteachable, he is prideful. To him, being right is more about ego than it is about understanding and compassion. Compassion leads one to explore other opportunities and see the relationships that cause people to do the things they do. When we bump into something that doesn't mesh with our opinions that have been hitherto cemented into our psyche, our pride will cause us to tweak the perception of the issue so that it matches our prejudices and preconceived notions.

Perhaps this is why pride is such a strong tool. We limit our thinking and convince ourselves that it's right to do so. Limited thinking is the product of the natural man, the latter is the product of the adversary.

As such, I think there are several people and social groups that deserve my apologies. I have been quick to judge others that don't march the same line I do when it comes to the Gospel. I still hold onto (for better or for worse) the ideal that being critical of any aspect of the Church is a dangerous road, but surely those that do it do not deserve my scorn and bitterness.

After all, judge ye not unrighteously, lest ye be judged.

Drinking from a Starbucks cup at BYU

This morning my good friend and I went down to BYU to visit their technical/engineering oriented career fair. Since BYU is a bigger school than mine (Utah State) they tend to garner a bit more interest. As such, we got up at the crack of dawn and drove the two hours to get there from our town to Provo before 9AM. We arrived around 8:30AM. My friend's wife, who was born and raised on the east coast, got me introduced to Starbucks brand apple cider with caramel froth. Don't be impressed: It's $3.50 for piping hot Treetop brand apple cider with some kind of caramel froth. The magic was gone when I spied the bottle behind the counter. Regardless of taking your average grocery store product and selling it at an unbelievably high markup, I find the drink quite tasty.

Now normally, a nice little Mormon guy like me wouldn't go into Starbucks. Why would I go there? They sell coffee. I don't drink coffee. Hence, I have no reason to go there... Normally. Now that my life has been enriched by the apple-y goodness of said drink, I found 8:30AM on a chilly February morning to be the perfect environment for me to walk around with my drink. I looked very professional in my new suit with shiny shoes holding what looked to be coffee in a Starbucks cup. At least I must've looked that professional, because I got quite a few stares from the BYU student body in the Wilkinson(that's the one, right?) Center.

I suppose that if you were to take away my coffee/cider, I'd look exactly like any other Joe down there at BYU. All the attention made me smile. Maybe it wasn't the anomaly of a student drinking coffee, though... Maybe I'm just that good looking.

My blog sucks!

Bah!

Who am I kidding.

No one's reading this. The only one that does usually hears me blab about my latest post ANYWAY... Bother my lack of audience and bother my need for one to post something that's worth half a penny.

But I don't want to quit. Maybe I should just start perusing other blogs, commenting here and there to try to generate some people that come and visit mine. I also should remove all tracking code so that I don't get depressed that no one comes. Leave a little magic to it, you know?

Oh well. My mom thinks I'm cool.

A plug for the Swiss

This guy off my Utah Jazz message board lives in Zurich. Nice guy-- as evidenced by my parcel in the mail this morning. I was chatting with him about Mirador and Farmer Croc-- two EXCELLENT Swiss culinary items. The former is a sort of spice, the latter is a cereal. They are very good, and made for heavy staples in the missionary diet when I was serving in Neuchatel. I missed those foods quite a bit, and I humbly asked if this friend of mine could send me a box of this.

He sent it a good 3 weeks ago. It arrived with some USDA markings on the box, and had been opened and re-sealed. But I had Farmer Croc cereal this morning. So good. When we have pasta next, I'm gonna put some Mirador on it. Oh man that stuff is good.

Nice guy. Next time you see a Swiss person, tell them they're great.

finally

After 3 weeks of having a living room comparable to a hurricane disaster area, it's finally clean.

That's right, it's clean. My poor wife did every scrap of laundry yesterday, leaving a mountain of clean clothes on our bed. I did half the dishes (I got too pooped to do the rest. Mrs. Sixline said she'd cover the rest today, Lord bless her.) and together we got the bathroom in working order. I even took an old (clean) rag, dipped it in piping hot water and did a little mop job in there.

But the big ticket was that living room. Since we live in a house that was built in 60's, our basement carpet is blue. It's kinda cool, but it's kinda dirty. Tracking snow and ice in there makes the carpet an almost brown color. This is disgusting. How can blue turn brown?! Anyway. In addition to the floor that's dirty and hadn't been vacuumed in the last 3 weeks, I had my fish crap EVERYWHERE. Remember last week, when I thought I'd be done? That tank was filled with water and rock and sand and the stupid thing cracked. So I had to wait another week to get a replacement tank. In the meantime there's been PVC pipe, wood shavings, scrap pieces of PVC, paint cans, tools, drills, drill bits, buckets of sand, buckets of salt, and a big tub of water and rock hanging out in my living room. Not only that, but our little table that we eat on (strange apartment layout, no room in the kitchen for eating so we put the small table for two in the living room.) It was pushed out of the way and just made things difficult and clunky in that room.

Yesterday I got the new tank in place, emptied the sand from the bucket and took care of said bucket, placed the rock in the tank and removed its tupperware container, cleaned up all my tools, disposed of all excess PVC and trash, put away all other chemicals, cleaned off the fishtank stand, and vacuumed. Then I moved the table back. We finally have a house in working order.

Hitting home

Mrs. Sixline and I rarely visit my family. My older brother is in the Air Force, currently stationed at Holloman AFB in Alamogordo, New Mexico. My little sister lives with her husband in Provo, where my little brother is staying until he moves into his apartment in the next month (Provo as well.) My parents and my eldest sister live in West Bountiful, however my dad works for the government checking baggage at airports and hence travels everywhere in the US.

This past weekend as a rare time when all of us could congregate in one city for an extended period of time. My older brother's wife, sadly, couldn't come up from New Mexico. We missed her, but it was fun all the same.

I know we're not as social as I'd like to be, and this has its ups and downs. When we are together, we don't fight or have episodes between us. We never see each other; why would we waste the few moments we have with fighting?

On the other hand, my wife's family is very close, and every one of them live in a 25 mile radius. As such, not only do they see more of each other, but I think it causes a bit of tension and your average family drama episodes pop up more often than with us.

I can't tell which way I want it. I like the closeness of my wife's side of the family, and I like the space my side of the family has. I just wish there were more good moments like this weekend to share.

A plug for Mrs. Sixline

I got us a swanky dinner date for Valentine's Day, but I can't remember where... I figured we can go to a chain restaurant any old day, so this is for a local place that's supposed to be nice. I have a surprise for her beyond that, but I'm not sure how I'm going to pull it off. I'll release details later, as I know that some of Mrs. Sixline's friends read this blog, and I prefer not to leak any details of the operation.

I really have to breathe a sigh of relief I'm with Mrs. Sixline. In some ways, I know she's lucky to have me. I do quite a bit of cleaning, I'm trying to be a righteous husband, and I'm doing my best to bring home the bacon.

I come up short far too often for my liking, and I don't depend on me the way she does. She's a rock. She's never disappointed me. I'm not talking about minor things, like towels on the floor, toothpaste caps, or cupboard doors being open. I'm talking about big things. When I need her. She's completely dependable, and stronger than I am. I feel like hanging my head in shame when I compare my track record to hers. I get teased because she's the only one who could put up with my personality and quirks, but I think it goes beyond that... She's able to support me and love me in the way I need.

Please, don't feel I take advantage of her. I'd hate to be guilty of that. It is true that I'm on the receiving end of a lot of things. (She's let me watch every Utah Jazz game this year.) Her example makes me want to do better. In a lot of ways, I've come very far, but... It just doesn't seem like it's enough. She deserves someone better, and I want that to be me.

My fish tank cracked.

This weekend was a huge buildup to setting up my reef. It was a real project, I had two pumps, a network of PVC pipes going everywhere, the tank on the stand and the other tank (the one that holds equipment and the like) underneath in the stand and I had everything ready. I did a test run to check for leaks and I had a few. I tightened those down, put teflon tape on a few connections, and tried again. No leaks. I was getting seriously excited. So I added a bunch of salt, got the salinity right, and then began to add sand and rock.

At this point paranoia got the best of me and I checked the back of the tank again to make sure that with the pumps running I still didn't have any leaks and that all my fixes were holding.

They were, but there was still water. Huh? How could that be? I saw water down near the lip of the tank, but my angle prevented me from seeing the crack at that time. I just figured I had spilled some water while putting rocks in. Then I looked back a second time, noticed more water, and decided it had to be coming from somewhere. But still, there was no visible source, no pipe sticking out, no pipe overhead, nothing.

Then I saw the crack.

Luckily I got everything out before the crack got so bad that it didn't hold water but man... This bites.

I don't have time to re-do it for another few weeks. I keep having family obligations down in Salt Lake (I know I want to see family and everything, but sometimes I just want to be left alone) and so weekends are eaten up with being down there.

*sigh*

It's depressing.

spontaneous combustion

When I get really stressed, sometimes it's like I must go through the cycle of:

1. Thinking about the things that stress me
   
2. Having them weigh on me
   
3. Blowing up (last night was a doozy)
   
4. Relaxing
   
5. Re-structuring/prioritizing life in order to finish what needs to be done
   
6. Having confidence it can happen
   
7. Making it happen
   

I'd really like to be able to eliminate all but the first, and the last three. 2-5 just don't add anything to my life. Humans are such creatures of habit. Even though I'm aware of this cycle, I feel like I'm powerless to stop it in one coup. Sure, it can stop. But it'll take a while. I heard once that our brains have thought patterns and processes, like the order the neurons fire, and that our brain gets used to doing it that way-- almost like the way asphalt gives way to tires running on it all the time. Our brains literally develop a groove, rut-- if you will, and that makes habit breaking extremely hard.

Maybe I should sell tickets to my panic episodes. Then I could at least generate revenue while trying to better myself.

suit riot

It costs too much to 'look good.' I wish I could be presentable without having to break the bank. It ran me well over $500 to get a suit, shoes, and two shirts at Men's Wearhouse yesterday. "So why'd you go to Men's Wearhouse, then? Everyone knows they're so expensive. You should have gone to ______" and insert your high-falutin' know-it-all answer.

Just because I whine doesn't mean I want to hear what I could have done. In some cases it's too late. (Like this one.) And don't tell me that everyone else in the world gets their suits and discount prices and no one but me ever EVER overpays.

I also don't like sales associates. The guy last night was decent enough, but I've been on that side of the fence. I know what some people are willing to say/do to get the sale. The actions of the rest of the crowd skew my trust in the good ones, so I end up defensive and hostile, which gets me nowhere.

I just hate feeling like I got screwed on the economic end.

Plateau

Recently I've felt a renewed sense of motivation. It's a welcome change to the otherwise blasé attitude I seem to have.

I think the key to continued motivation and personal progress is to not get too far ahead or behind. Just keep a pace-- whatever pace that might be-- and go.

As far as school goes, things are going fine. I was able to drill my fish tank (drilling glass is a trying endeavour) and I'm proud of myself for being able to do it successfully. My local Reef Club message board kept trying to convince me to take the tank to a fish store and have them drill it. Most fish stores want about $15 per hole. I have to drill 6 holes. The aquarium was free, why would I pay $90 to have someone else do it?!

Anyway, I rarely ever feel like I'm good with my hands, so this was one of life's little victories for me. They said I couldn't I proved them wrong. The only thing that bothers me is that they're not around to have me rub it in their faces.

Oh well. High road it is.

P.S. -- This is my 100th post.

Weird dreams.

I had two sports related dreams last night.

In the fist dream, I heard a lot of cheering in my apartment. So I walked up to the TV, to turn it on, and it was showing the Nets/Jazz game. The Nets players were going WILD. Then they showed the score, and I saw 94-29. I remember screaming at my wife that the Jazz could only muster 8 points a quarter. She told me to calm down, but I wouldn't hear of it. I got so mad I turned off the TV. I think this means that I'm upset with the way the Jazz are playing recently.

Then, you know how dreams suddenly stop and go to different places and you don't skip a beat, right? All of a sudden I was in Baltimore. I was standing next to Camden Yards. The sky was this greyish color, but where the sun was strong behind the clouds it was an eerie dirty yellow. There was a gothic style prison over a small hill with a large field between the prison and this dumpy old house. All this was on one side of an empty street with the stadium on the other side. In the far off distance behind the stadium I could see the shadowy outline of a city's skyscrapers.

I remember walking up to the house, going through the garage, and knocking on the door. It was Cal Ripken Jr's house, and I wanted him to sign my baseball. Trouble was, I didn't have a baseball. I had a baseball that was missing huge chunks of it, almost as though someone had taken a bite out of it.

Anyway, I knocked on the door and these kids answered. I asked if Cal Ripken Jr. was there. They said yes, and some guy with Cal's face came to the door. He was tall, fat, and had a mullet. (Cal's bald, for those who don't know.) He came out, and we all played catch. I kept wanting to ask him to sign my ball, but I was too afraid. His son started telling me about how he was going to go to college in Calgary, because they have a lot of schools there. Then Cal asked us to go to the baseball game with him. Instead of responding, I asked 'Cal, will you sign my--' and I woke up.

I have no idea what this one meant. Sometimes a baseball is just a baseball, eh Freud?

Very odd night, all together.

God is not dead.

So last night I got to thinking (doubting) about where I'm at in my 'career.' There's a lot on my plate. It's not my intent to turn this post into a whine-fest about how much I have to do. We all have our lot in life. Suffice it to say last night I particularly didn't feel up to the task.

I felt like something must give. Either I've got to feel like it's going in the right direction, and that I can find a boost of confidence, or I've got to stop.

I went into the living room so I could pray alone and concentrate. I asked the Lord if He would give me confidence. I felt the response immediately-- something that doesn't always happen during prayer-- No. I cannot make you a confident person. You must choose it, and I will guide you.

I ended the prayer and went back into my bedroom. Mrs. Sixline asked me how the prayer went. I related to her the same story you just read. As I told her, I started to think of all the people I've recently come into contact with. They've all been very aware of how I struggle with confidence and they've given me positive reinforcement several times now. My own patriarchal blessing, given to me 8 years ago, tells me that the Lord will guide me when it comes to my professional affairs. Any fear I had about being led to where I am now was quelled. He has guided me here, and it would be foolish of me to abandon His plans now.

I am reminded of one my favorite scriptures from the Good Book.

Proverbs 3:5-6
5 ¶ Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

I am thankful that God answers prayers. He truly is mindful of us.

Old friends

So I got to talking to an old friend and realized that some people I've known for onwards of ten years.

My brother in law, Joe. He's the friend I've had the longest. I (obviously) keep in good contact with him very often seeing as how our wives are sisters. (That's a post for another day.) I met him back in Texas in... Golly, 1994? 1993? 14 years ago. I have other friends from Texas I've known that long but don't keep the greatest contact with... I'm a bit ashamed of that. Good friends are hard to come by.

Then there's the 'internet' friends who have been just as good of friends despite the distance. There was awhile when we all fell out of contact, but now that we are all on Google Talk, it's like we never skipped a beat. Wow. Those guys, all the 1994-1995 time as well. 12-13 years I've known them. Their links are over there on the right. For you lazy folk, they're Paulistano & SilverChic (married), Chancelot, and Peter.

These people I've known for 12-13 years. That's half my age. Wow.

Good friends are hard to come by. I can't say that enough. Treasure them. I have some very good ones now, people I've recently met, and I hope to be able to say the same things about them in 12-13 years.

Snow

I never thought I'd say this, but I really don't want it to snow. It's coming down right now, and I just shoveled the walk and driveway. Within 15 minutes it'll look like I didn't do anything at all. Since we've had such a mild winter this year I never bothered to buy ice melt. Now everyone in the valley will clean out the local suppliers and since I'm stuck at school all day I wonder if I'll be able to get some by the time the night is over.

Of course, St. Murphy, laughing at me from the Beyond, might not let it snow in the following weeks making my bag of ice melt a waste of money. I guess I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Or, we could buy some water softener. It says 'salt' on it, it's bagged the same way (size, weight) as ice melt, and very often it's stored on palettes neighboring the ice melt. Once Mrs. Sixline accidentally bought a bag, and we had it in the trunk for about a year before I finally just tossed it. Even though she got the wrong thing, it was pretty cool of her to take it upon herself to heft a 25lb bag of salt into the trunk thinking it would help me shovel the walk. Mrs. Sixline is pretty cool, ladies and gentlemen. She is pretty cool.

Emotional laxative, anyone?

I hate feeling like this.

I especially hate it when channels (such as a blog) are futile at helping me. Maybe I take myself too seriously and should just let it go. I don't mean to sound cryptic, but I guess I'm just having too rough a time right now. All things considered, my life is very good, and I don't believe that I'm really having 'difficult times,' as one would think of them as being. I just hate being challenged in areas where I'm unsure of myself.

For instance, when I play video games, the ones I enjoy the most are the ones I know I can beat. When I board games with friends, unless I'm very sure of myself competing/winning, I don't particularly enjoy playing. I hate competing when I'm not sure I can win. Trouble is, I can't seem to develop the mentality of confidence without prior experience. Doing new things precludes experience (duh), and so I hesitate with new things.

More trouble is, I'm working at a place where it's my job to do something new and different. I get a bit scared at it. I'm not sure what exactly I'm scared of-- failure, inability to do it (failure), needing help, how well I'll do, how long it'll take, or what. I just hate feeling like this and not being able to make it go away.

Episode XI: A New Semester

I started college in August of '02. I went to school that year, '02-'03, '03-'04, '04-'05, '05-'06, last year (Fall '06), and now '07. Plus I went in the summer of '04, so that makes this semester my 11th thus far.

I'm really tired of this.

Word for the day

Dichotomy.

I'm not sure what it means, but if you combine it with other big words and a political buzz word or two, I'm sure you'll sound extremely smart. Like this:

The dichotomy of the situation is such that the sessile incumbents aren't proactive.

Nice, eh?

blogger's block

Bah!

I had a pretty good post going there for a minute. It took too many twists and turns, and became too cumbersome to read let alone finish writing. It's too bad I'm a horrible writer. Command of language is a desirable skill, I think. It's good I speak English... English is one of the few languages you can completely butcher and not only do most people still know what you're talking about, but very often you can set the tone for speech in pop culture. Unless you're a hick from the 'suburbs' of Baton Rouge, in which case you don't set the tone for anything other than your sister's wedding, which is sometimes yours as well.

Happy New Year, even if I am a bit late.

I didn't feel it this year.

Normally I'm a sucker for the Christmas spirit. I enjoy Christmas songs, Christmas lights, Christmas decorations, Christmas shopping, and all the sappy Christmas movies that have happy endings. (My favorite is It's a Wonderful Life)

This year, though, I just didn't feel it. I feel sad that I didn't feel it, like something is wrong with me. I'm looking forward to January so that we can all move past the post-Christmas atmosphere and so there's no more reminder that I just had a pretty bad holiday.

Not that I didn't get anything good. Mrs. Sixline was kind enough to let me purchase some fish equipment from someone who was getting out of the hobby. Incidentally, that's the best way to spend your salt water aquarium money. I got a pump for $50 that sells for $220 brand new. Mrs. Sixline had a kitchen-aid miracle this year. She got a mixer from her parents, a blender from me, and a set of pots and pans from Santa.

I guess this is what happens when you treat it like a hype. Life's bound to have ups and downs, you just don't expect them to come on Christmas. Christmas is a given up. Maybe I should tone it down next year, and focus a little more on what it's really about rather than the ambiance and atmosphere.

A sweater vest?!

My first Christmas with Mrs. Sixline.

We bunked with family. Her sister, husband, and niece were living in Logan at the time and so we elected to stay with them Christmas Eve night, then drive down to Salt Lake for Christmas Day to see family down there. All that season I had my eye on this fancy remote for the TV. It lit up blue when you touched it and had a light-up screen on the remote that illuminated buttons that were relevant to the operation mode of the remote. You couldn't change TV channels, for instance, in TV mode. The remot was about $50, and we didn't have much money. I really liked it and really wanted it.

So that night, Mrs. Sixline spun me this huge tale about she got me an argyle style sweater vest so that we could get our pictures taken together on Christmas day. I don't know why I bought it, but bought it I did. I was so angry with her, and went to bed that night pretty upset. She handed me the box the 'sweater' was wrapped in, and it was a garment style box, and in a somber mood said "Here's your sweater, hon..."

I opened it, and she had the remote in there. I was so excited, it was great. She had me going, hook line and sinker.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Take some time to remember what the first Christmas gift was, and that'll be a reminder to you everytime you give and receive gifts among loved ones.

actually, no... i don't got milk.

All right, I'll admit it. I'm lactose intolerant.

I haven't always been this way. I used to be able to dine on breakfast morning, noon and night. Recently my stomach's kinda rumbled when I'd get done with a glass of chocolate milk, or I'd feel a bit nauseated after a particularly cheesy quesadilla.

The clincher came when I ordered my "Breakfast of Champions." It's where I get a personal sized milk jug from 7-11, and gorge on Hostess Chocolate Frosted Donettes. This is a mighty tasty breakfast, with enough sugar to power a small city. Yet I always feel rather queasy after eating it. Today I tried the doughnuts solo, without any milk. I finished the entire box of doughnuts minus 3-4, and washed it down with water and Powerade. I feel perfectly fine.

Looks like I'll be taking dietary supplement medicine from here on out.

I'm dying.

'Tis the season to get sick.

This year Mrs. Sixline and I haven't felt the holiday joy that normally accompanies the Christmas season. We've been sick, and as such we just don't feel like we're in the holiday mood. Couple that with a particularly stressfull finals week and Mrs. Sixline retail job, and it just drains you.

We're not bah-humbug, or anything, but not exactly filled with cheer. I hope we get better before Christmas day. At least then we can enjoy ourselves. Oh-- and I'm a pretty good husband. I got my wife something she really wanted, (I paid attention this year! Whee!), and I got her the new LG Chocolate mp3 player cell phone. Now I need to get her a little bit of memory so she can start listening to music.

Hooray for good husbands.

Hey dude.

You'll never read this, dude, but please... Remember a few things.

1.) When you call someone, never ask, especially brusquely in these exact words: "Who's this?" You'll guarantee to upset someone.

2.) If you've gotten the wrong number, take a second to find out whether or not you dialed incorrectly, or whether or not you actually have the incorrect number.

3.) Lastly, don't persist in #1 if the direct answer to your question doesn't result in the answer you're looking for. When someone calls me, and repeatedly asks "Who's this?" I'm going to continue answering by telling you my name. When you finally respond with "I didn't call you," you've broken the stupid barrier and you will get hung up on.

Dork.

Like butter scraped across too much bread...

Get flowers for wife.
Take wife out on dates.
Get home teaching feedback from other guys in the quorum.
Prepare primary lesson.
Fix the hole in the wall. (Long story.)
Prepare abstract for Dasu.
Begin testing MD.
Document finished MD project for future use.
Read journal papers.
Read MD journal paper.
Read Scriptures.
Pay Tithing.
Say prayers.
Pay lodge fees and dues.
Do Christmas shopping.
Study Finite Domain Constraints.
Finish concurrent programming project.
Get good grades.
Find a good job.
Save money.
Pay off debt.
Use credit wisely to get into a house.

Most of that (except the dates with Mrs. Sixline, obviously) is stuff I have to do and I don't particularly feel like it. I can't do all this. I have too many people I answer to. Lately I've been so apathetic. Even with all I have to do, I'm not doing half of it. So I feel lazy. So I feel like I need to do more. So I look at the list and think 'I have to do all this?' So it intimidates me, I put it off, I don't do any of it, I feel lazy, so I feel like working, so I look at this list, so it intimidates me, so I put it off, so I don't do any of it, so I feel lazy...

Oh yeah, and if you try to piss and moan about it, everyone else pisses and moans that their list is bigger.

What a crock.

owned by concurrent programming

I place a lot of self-esteem on being able to understand and do things. I've had some serious issues with a certain class this semester. It's been pretty difficult to grasp things, and I haven't been as engaged by the professor to pay attention and put a lot into it. That shouldn't matter, I know, and don't think I'm trying to throw blame around. I know that I should have done better throughout the year. Now I find myself in the midst of this class's final project. I'm sinking. I thought I had a decent grasp on the first part that was due this past Friday. I open my mail this morning to a plethora of messages along the lines of 'This had quite a few problems. Come see me.' 'Here is an example of what you should have done.' 'Please come see me.' (Evidently the bulk of these messages were sent over the weekend, I think he assumes I have access to email at home. I don't.

So now I'm burying my head in the sand. I don't really want to look at it. It's not like me to dodge issues. I normally face my fear. No, seriously, I do. I might not face it like a man, but I do own up to the things I have to do. I just don't want to in this class. I don't want to try to fix part A because I have to do part B, but part A is a springboard into part B.

I know that nothing in life that's worth having comes easy, but I sure do wish things were easier anyway.

all your base are belong to us

This is classic too. It comes from an old Sega game, Zero Wing. The translation is just horrible.

Coat of Arms

My family's coat of arms, according to wikipedia. Cool.

lost in translation

This was an email from a professor to students. It's supposed to clarify the homework. I should say something in the way of clarification myself. Matlab is a computer program. Anyway... See if you can follow his english.

Dear All,

For Programming #2, by "pencil-and-paper" we mean using Matlab.

In Matlab, when you have got a string of expression, how to put an array input and get the array output?
Here is the trick by following example

syms x
impulse_response=cos(x);
t=0:0.01:pi;
hh=subs(impulse_response,x,t);
plot(t,hh)

Note: x and impulse_response are all symbolic strings; t is the numerical array,
"hh" is also an numerical array.

So, the magic is the "subs". To know more on "subs", type "help subs"

HTH. YangQuan Chen

Classic.

random updates

This is a good read: Nephi and his Asherah. At least I thought it was. Daniel Peterson really is good at writing journals/papers. Most-a-the-time when I read journals and papers (even within, nay; especially within my own field of study) I nod off and can't go two paragraphs without a strong dose of Mountain Dew.

Eeyore's givin' me a big hand on MD. Whee! Babysitting time for them.

I have discovered Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin. And it is beautiful. Which segways into...

Why are Jews so flipping talented? That sounds bad. I have a hard time expressing deep feelings without the use of euphemisms or four letter words. It's not my intent to insult. I'm astounded by how many Jews are household names. Rodgers and Hammerstein were Jewish. (One I believe was raised Catholic, but he still had the blood in him.) The world's pioneers in quantum mechanics and physics were either Jewish, or had one Jewish parent -- Einstein and Bohr. Jerry Seinfeld, the world's funniest guy (in my opinion) is Jewish. George Gershwin, the guy who wrote Rhapsody in Blue was Jewish.

I can't say it enough. I'm astonished by their success and prowess in almost any field known to man. I guess there's your evidence for the existence of God. Jews, God's chosen people, are 12 million strong nowadays. Out 6 billion people in the planet, they happen to dominate the rest of us in Nobel Prize winners. They are excellent statesmen, scientists, entertainers, writers, film makers, businessmen, and literary artists. How can you look at that and say they're not blessed, or supported by a Heavenly Hand?

Hats off to them. They get such a terrible rap. They have been, and sadly, probably always will be, the object of derision, hate, and vitriol at the hands of petty men with jealous hearts. It's really a sad thing to hate a rose for being beautiful. The only thing the Jews are guilty of is success.

After thought...

Common gripe: "The Jews control the world!"

What it should be: "The Jews excel to positions that allow them to be of influence in areas and their success can be written off as mob-mentality fear of a collective of people ruling the world-- a fear I have subscribed to!"

Dirk Magnumforce

If I ever was to be a super hero, my name would be Dirk Magnumforce.

I just thought you should know that I actively think about different ways I could wear a cape, as well as my underwear on the outside of my tights in a socially acceptable way.

80th post

Four score and twenty posts ago, I didn't have a blog.

Despite my little mission statement to the top right, the part where I welcome opposing points of view (I still do), I realize I really have a hard time with criticism.

I'm not sure I want to discuss it. I don't like it, I wish I could take it better. At least I have the comfort of knowing that relatively few people take criticism well.

I will say this... In my head, it feels like I try not to be critical. I'm accountable for the things I don't realize come out of my mouth, I know, but when I'm watching what I'm saying (roughly a third of the time, I imagine) I try not to be critical. So I'm always surprised when someone criticizes me. "Hey, Pal, I coulda blasted you the other day about that one thing, but I didn't. So why dontcha lay off?" This point of view doesn't make any sense from an outsider's view because, of course, the thing that happened the other day has no bearing on the thing I'm currently being criticized for.

I need thicker skin.

Victory is Life

Kneeling in the dark of night,
He clenched his hands and prayed

Bowed his head, opened his heart,
He dutifully obeyed.

The triumph over sin was His
For He chose a different path

When temptation rears its ugly head,
Think of the sorrows He had

Anguish and pain He remembers no more,
so long as I repent,

As long as my soul is His;
as long as my heart is rent.

Lift up your head,
be no more sad,

For you the fight is won.
Victory belongs to those who follow, believe, in God's only Son.

I wanna be rich.

All right, I'll admit it... I wanna be rich.

This is entirely motivated by a drive to be taken care of. My father was a blue-collar working stiff his entire life, and no one recognized his talents because he didn't have money. He couldn't get money because he was a blue-collar working stiff. He was in quite the catch-22, and were it not for obedience to the sacred law of tithing, I feel compelled to admit that life would have been much harder for us growing up. He took care of us, but I know he wanted to do better as far as temporal things go.

It's not like we ran around barefoot collecting cans for money. I wasn't hungry or cold, but I could tell we didn't have much. We didn't have a lot of presents under the tree. We also didn't have the nicest things. I know that my parents wanted to give us these things, but just could not. I don't blame them, not one bit. I'm glad they underlined the lesson that if you don't have the money for something, DON'T BUY IT.

Now the list of things I learned from struggling, and the list of blessings that came from it are a topic for a post of another day. I don't want to buy my children the latest and greatest of everything, but I want to have enough money that taking a child to the dentist doesn't worry me and keep me up all night. I want to be able to laugh that my stupid 16 year old got his first speeding ticket-- not worry that I can't pay for it. I don't want to have my wife sew clothing for them instead of getting new school clothes. I don't want to worry that my car might not get me to work in the morning.

I want to make sure we're safe. (And I want a freaking HUGE fish tank, but first things first, right?)

Fish Christmas List

Now this isn't my real fish tank wish list. I don't think that Google has enough bandwidth to cover a list that long. But this is what I wish to do in the immediate future. I'm trying to meet a budget because I have no cash... Like I said, this is the realistic goal for the future that I think I can do.

1.) Purchase new lights - Need two of the 18W 50/50 kind.
2.) Purchase pump - Need the 2300.
3.) New heater - The 150W dude.
4.) Two bulkheads - The 3/4" black ones.
5.) GE Silicone Type II - Courtesy of Lowe's.
6.) Assorted PVC. I'll just scout Lowe's for what I need.

I guess the hardest part about all this is drilling, cutting, and shaping that I'm going to need to do. I don't have anything but a buzz saw and a drill. My Grandpa still thinks I'm 7, and reminds me to be careful about touching things in his carpentry-tool filed garage, but maybe I can change his mind... *Shakes fist threateningly*

Man I love reef aquaria. Just to get a feel for what I'm talking about, go visit Marc's website. Very nice. Be careful, addiction level is high.

More Digital Photography

There it is. My wife and I saw this as we were taking a walk last Sunday near my parents' house in West Bountiful. Neat, eh?

Voice mail

I can never understand what people say on voice mail. I try to listen to it several times over, hoping that the repetition will help it sink in. Doesn't work. It's always hard to hear the important things, too.

"Hey man, it's R-schzzzzzfffffenderson. I'm from the ward. Call me at 75 'Hon, take care of the kids, will you?' Anyway. Call me back."

Voice mail has made people lazy. You used to hound them until you got a hold of them, or someone else actually wrote down what you had to say in order to pass the message along. So please, next time, repeat yourself and make sure you're clear on voice mail or I won't call you back, and definitely won't even try.

Oh, and don't assume I know you immediately. I don't always remember who someone is right off the bat, even when it's my own family. Leaving me a message that basically says "It's me" guarantees a quick delete.

In fact, don't leave any voice mail at all. Just don't talk to me.

Glad we could clear that up.

I love you, schmoopie.

My wife and I get pretty lovey dovey, even after 3.5 years of marriage. We say lots of really sappy things to each other, myself more than her. We sometimes get teased, and other times we actually get some criticism for it. I'm not that bothered by it. She's my schmoopie, and I'm crazy about her. :) I'm actually grinning as I type this.

Maybe you don't know me that well, maybe you just happened upon this blog and you're here reading. (I'm looking at you, mister 10+ visits from somewhere in Saudi Arabia.) My family, my mother especially, likes to tease me by asking my wife 'How do you put up with him?' Frankly, I echo the question entirely. To say I'm a handful is an understatement. There are only a few women (well, people) that don't get fed up with me after awhile. I know I've got that threshold, and I try to throttle the 'me-ness' if I can tell I'm playing on someone's nerves, but I don't believe that this kind of holding back should be necessary in marriage. You should be you-- the best you. The you that knows you've got problems and you're trying to work on them but you're still gonna be you with all your faults and shortcomings, as well as all your strengths and endearing qualities. Anyway.

I don't balance out. :) To say I have a few quirks is an understatement. To have someone like Mrs. Sixline put up with me the way she does and love me despite is very surprising, given the words of a Latter-day prophet (1):

While marriage is difficult, and discordant and frustrated marriages are common, yet real, lasting happiness is possible, and marriage can be, more an exultant ecstasy than the human mind can conceive. This is within the reach of every couple, every person. “Soul mates” are fiction and an illusion; and while every young man and young woman will seek with all diligence and prayerfulness to find a mate with whom life can be most compatible and beautiful, yet it is certain that almost any good man and any good woman can have happiness and a successful marriage if both are willing to pay the price.

If there's no such thing as soulmates, then I guess I really do have one in a million. No one else could love me and put with me the way she does. So if you know me, or you spend time around me, and I get lovey-dovey on you with her, it's only because I'm utterly ecstatic that anyone can stand my presence for more than ten minutes, let alone eternity, and I just want to shower her with love, affection, and attention.

I love you, schmoopie. :)

(1) Spencer W. Kimball, “Oneness in Marriage,” Ensign, Mar. 1977, 3

thicker than water

We always do the worst to those we love. I don't think this is intentional. I think it's a by-product of that closeness. A nobody on the street can stab me in my weakest spots and I'd be fine because I can always tell myself 'What does he know?' But the close ones know you. They're very aware of your weakness.

I've been really unfair to my little brother. I think about this a lot. I feel like I failed him. He's a few years younger than me, both of us in our early 20s, and I thought that I could help him out one summer by taking him to do a door-to-door sales bit. I thought I could teach him some of my tricks, help him establish confidence, work experience, and the character building that comes from working hard. But it was harder than I thought... He didn't get along with the guys in the office. They thought he was weird, in a looking down your nose sort of way. No one wanted to work with him.

I'll admit, my brother's got his weirdness (I think our whole family does...) but he's a good kid. He just hasn't ever been in a non-sheltered environment away from family. No roommates, no college, no mission, nothing. Always been at home. He tries to be funny and sometimes misses (remind you of anyone you know?) so he put himself out there and it just didn't fly. And I didn't stick up for him. I was especially bad about bashing him with another guy because I wanted the other guy to like me. I didn't want to work with my little brother-- I wanted to work with the successful guys. I was stupid. I was wrong. I feel horrible about it, but I don't want to hurt my little brother by telling him what happened. I just wished I would have stood up for him, something I'm resolved to do now. I wish I didn't see him as an embarrassment.

Not only did I fail him in that respect, but since summer sales was a Failure for me(note the capital 'F'), it was doubly so for him. I had no confidence in him, so I couldn't teach him that. He didn't make any money, so that was a failure. He went home early, which is a major no-no in summer sales... Man. If I would have just carried him like I meant to, I think he'd have done better. I'm ashamed of what I did, and I hate that.

Ansel Adams wannabe

These are a few of my first shots at digital photography. (No Ben, not trying to copy you. :) )

Positive comments only, please.

The Talk

I had the beginnings of 'The Talk' with the in-laws. My mother and father in law really are good people. Our familial cultures clash at times, but, to be fair, they are loving people who want to have a healthy relationship with me. I think all the bad PR I give my in-laws really stems from only two or three individuals. Not really fair to judge the rest of them based on that.

I basically told them that it feels like I'm always the bad guy. I have a tendency to say 'rude' things (The 'R' word... now that's a post for another day...) and they have a tendency to be upset at rude things. Put two and two together and wham-o. Of course, a lot of this happens after the fact. I say something, or react a certain way, and I find out much later, often a day or so later, that I upset someone. Usually the informant is my wife, so some of the feelings are lost in translation to begin with. This is no fault of Mrs. Sixline, this just plain happens. Plus she normally catches the upset individual two seconds after the fact, and after a little perspective is added, the upset indivdual isn't nearly as upset as they once were.

Anyway.

It was conceded that I will be me. Granted, I won't try to upset anyone, but if I do, then we just all need to get over it. I'm curious to see how this rolls out. I'm not going to spend any more time bashing them, something I shouldn't do regardless, and I'm just not gonna be upset if I piss someone off. This is going to take a lot of patience on my part, because contrary to their belief, it will happen, and I'm going to need to have the attitude of 'Well... I'm me. Get over it.' (Unless of course I actually merit blame for the offense, in which case I'll own up and apologize.)

Don't like it? Get over it.

Oh, and Happy Veteran's Day. Kings among men.

melancholy and the infinite sadness

I haven't felt like this since I was in high school.

More appropriately, I haven't felt like this since I was an awkward teenager who was trying to figure out who he was, which happened to correspond to the time I was in high school.

But you know, this kind of self pitying dross is exactly the kind of toxic self-loathing I wanted to avoid in blogging. I guess I was due for one of these posts. There's no real point to it, it's just the outward expression of frustration I feel for not being able to communicate what's going on. I guess it's no mystery why little children scream and cry; it's the only way they can communicate how they're feeling.

But screaming and crying isn't the mature, adult thing to do. We blog.

but I don't wanna...

Here I am again.

Still got tons of stuff to do, and yet I feel un-motivated. I've been coasting... I just want it to be over. I can close my eyes and see the day when the Spectrum is filled with screaming fans of mine as they hand me my sheepskin... I raise my arms in triumph to the deafening roar from the stands... The President-- no, President Hinckley-- emerges from the row of honored guests to tell me that I'm the best most wonderfullest person in the world... Employers are pushing each other over and fencing with fountain pens to see which engineering firm I'll work for... My wife tells me she's pregnant... And then I slip on the toilet seat, hit my head on the sink and come up with the idea for the flux capacitor, invent a time machine, go into the future and come back with the cure for cancer and invest the profits and retire to a beautiful house, boat, jetski, and reef tank up in Bear Lake...

Yep... Not gonna happen without motivation. But I got none. So instead I close my eyes and imagine us living in a card board box at the corner of 4th and Main. That's why I prefer the other daydream.

Someday...

ssdd

Same story, different day. At least that's the clean version of the expression.

Not much is going on here. Mrs. Sixline has been sick. Although I've been a bit off myself (think I'm adjusting to the weather) I feel pretty good. Lucky me, I don't get sick. At least not that often. I seem to get one cold/fever a year, and usually when I do feel nasty I just sleep it off. In a day or so I'm always doing much better.

On a serious note, and this probably won't make sense-- don't worry if it doesn't. I'm giving as much detail as I'm comfortable with. I hate knowing I'm going to do something, something I don't want to do, and doing it anyway. It causes so much frustration the second the act is over. 'What was I thinking?! How could I be so stupid?' The outsider says 'So just stop.' I wish it were that simple. Sometimes it's like I've programmed myself through previous choices and when I'm triggered I can't really help it-- not that I'm disavowing all accountability in the matter, the choices I made in the past set up the pattern that happens now and I'm accountable for them. I think this is why I believe we're only free to choose the right. Choosing wrong limits your ability to stop doing that wrong. Addiction sucks.

Career Fairs bite.

I went to a job fair last night in place of a friend who was under the knife for back surgery. I suppose he didn't want to make a bad impression being under pain medication, so he sent me... I guess he's not as smart as we all thought. *grin*

I never have enjoyed these venues. Maybe I've got my negative glasses on, but it feels like I can never make a good impression, my GPA's always too low, I don't have enough work experience, people aren't hiring, or... and this is the worst, you're going up against 50 other kids with the same credentials, grades, and work experience. How in the world do you stand out from all them? How hard must've the Depression been?

I hate looking for a job.

Traveling East

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.

- Karen Blixen

Great line. I especially like the sea part. It made me think of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader where Prince Caspain sails to the edge of the earth with Lucy, Eustace, Edmund, and of course, Reepicheep. They sail east in search of Aslan's country. Along the voyage, each character is touched in ways

I don't know how to put this in words without making it a farce; I normally treat serious subjects with humor in an effor to compartmentalize them-- box them up so I can deal with them. Emotions run deep; we all have our defense mechanisms.

Part of the light of Christ given to all men, I believe, is the desire to want something more. Looking for Aslan, looking to make ourself better, looking for that eternal rock upon which our anchor can harbor our souls and make us great is what's in a sea voyage.

Bah. I have such trouble with words. Just go read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Then you'll understand.

What's the capital of North Dakota?

When I was a kid, (or more of one than I am now, depending on how you look at it), I watched this LDS commercial where two students were taking a test. One is busy at work while the other leans over to him and asks "What's the capital of North Dakota?" The other little boy seems to want to help, but knows he can't cheat. He doesn't help the kid and then there was some cheesey feel good ending and the message was sent that Mormons help your family by teaching right and wrong.

When done properly, this is very successfull.

Case in point: Me. Today I took a Concurrent Programming test. It was open book, open note, open homework, open Google, but not open neighbor. Pretty much everything was allowed as open source material. For the programming part of the exam, we were given a skeleton version of some code and asked to fill in the blanks. He provided us with the working version of the blanks filled in code so that we could check our output with the correct output.

As I was doing the program, it dawned on me... I've seen this code before. Where have I seen it before? I shrugged it off and got about 80% finished. I was hung up on one little area that was causing infinite loops and just couldn't get past it. Then it hit me where I remembered seeing this code: in a homework description he emailed us. Everything he gave us is open season, right? So I opened up the email and sure enough, there it was. The entire working version of the exam-- blanks filled in and everything. I saw my error, which was absolutely minor, and fixed it. Then I had a moral dilemma: Is this cheating? Surely he didn't mean for us to have the code when he meant we could look at anything he wanted. The battle lasted a few seconds, and then I breathed a huge sigh of frustration, and called over the Professor.

Me: Dr. Stiles?

Him: Yes?

Me: Do you realize you gave us this code and that I found it?

Him: I did?!

Me: Yep.

Him: Did it help you?

Me: Well, it got me past this one little part, but everything else was mine.

Him: Oh. Oh, well then... We'll have to give you partial credit. Don't worry, you'll still get 90% or thereabouts.

Bah! I could have had 100% credit and been able to rationalize it away. But I didn't. I knew I shouldn't because it was in violation of the principle of cheating. Humans in society today are hung up on application and not principle. If we argued, established, and promoted principles then we'd have a lot more wise people. Today I was wise. Although my test score will suffer, I maintained my integrity. The test score will have little bearing on my life. The way I acted today will have a lot.

Agency and Free Will

Something I noticed while reading this wikipedia article:

The theological doctrine of divine foreknowledge is often alleged to be in conflict with free will. After all, if God knows exactly what will happen, right down to every choice one makes, the status of choices as free is called into question.

I've wondered about that once or twice. I remember feeling very annoyed in Seminary once about this. (Mormon seminary is a daily thing when you're in high school. It's basically like Bible Study.) I kept pressing with the exact question stated above, and no answer seemed to satisfy. What doubled my displeasure was that other students echoed the Seminary teacher-- I felt certain that they had no idea what they were talking about and that I was the only one who really saw a conflict. I was arrogant.

I've come to learn that all things are before God. Is it possible that God sees time in a non-linear fashion, that He sees the changing future as we choose it? I think so.

It's hard to explain. Many have done so before me, and many will do so after me.

In the frame of milk before meat, it's easy to be consumed with discussion of such things. I suppose the bottom line is that issues like this are gristle; indigestible substitutes for meat. You either believe you have agency, or you don't. There's really no way to prove it, is there?

But there's the rub. I submit that because you cannot prove it, that is a proof that agency exists, and that it was God's idea. Imagine the fallout of being able to prove such a fundamental conundrum. How many people must change in the face of irrefutable proof that they have agency? Worse yet, what kind of fallout ensues from infallible proof that we don't have free will? I thank heaven that we can't prove it. I thank God that we must approach Him to find the truth; only then will we be unafraid to embrace it.

Dance, monkey!!!

Last night I got home from watching Peter Shaffer's flavor of Amadeus, which had enough things to blog about, and my wife had a few friends over.

One of the friends is a family friend, the Kermit lady who blogs somewhere else. Whenever Mrs. Sixline and I spend time with the Muppets I take to entertaining the group with doing voices, foreign accents, and impressions. I've gotten quite effective at making my wife and Kermit laugh with a Tim Gunn impression. (Tim Gunn is a co-host of the show 'Project Runway,' a fashion show my wife and her friend are pretty big fans of.) It's a habitual thing, I just like to make people laugh. It gets me attention while letting others feel good too. Pretty good trade off, I'd say.

So I get home, and Kermit has brought along a friend of hers. During their evening together, I guess Kermit and Mrs. Sixline (more Kermit than shy Mrs. Sixline, I believe) said that Mr. Sixline does great impressions, and funny voices, and he's really goofy, and you'll just have to meet him. The crew stayed up and waited for me to get home so I could do the impressions. It's a different thing when you do it on call, and for people you've never met. I was instructed that I needed to do it so everyone could see how funny I was. I don't mind that, it's always good to feel like you're a funny guy. I was minorly annoyed (really, REALLY minorly annoyed... I think it had more to do with the fact that I was tired and wanted to see the results of the NLCS Cards/Mets game) but I did it, and sure enough, it cracked everyone up.

But it got me thinking. Holy cats, this is what I'm known for. For being a goofy guy. Not 'Here comes Mr. Sixline. I want you to meet him because he's brilliant, wonderful, spiritual, humble man. Meeting him is like meeting the Prophet!' (Tongue in cheek.)

I need to grow up.

Deepavali

Happy Deepavali. Although it's not supposed to be celebrated for a few more days, the Indian Student Association here on campus decided to throw the celebration this past weekend. It was my understanding that since it's a rather religious holiday, it's difficult to openly share it. So they opted instead to have a song and dance night where traditional culture and folklore from India was shared. It was pretty cool. I had some friends who danced in various performances. I enjoyed it.

The food, although prepared à la Américaine, was tasty. Perhaps this was a good thing, as Indian food can be rather spicy. You know what they say: spicy on the way in, spicy on the way out. At least I'm that way. I can barely handle Mexican food, let alone Oriental hotstuff. That'd probably send me to the hospital.

Understanding of a people's religion, as Deepavali is a religious celebration, really gives insight to the way a society functions. It's the sacred ground in their heart. I felt priveleged to be a part of it.

The Mozart Effect

Man this is good music. I've heard many times over that the Baroque period of music (Handel, Bach, Mozart) is quite peppered with variations and counterpoint. This stimulates our brains into forming organizational skills and basically formatting your entire mind. Evidently we remember EVERYTHING we see, hear, learn or otherwise take in, but getting it back out is a problem. Listening to this kind of music helps your brain organize itself, thus aiding in retrieving information that you've previously stored. Participating in this music stimulates even further. I guess I'm such a diddly dang genius because of all the Mozart I sang in the choir in high school. I mean, all the nerdy kids in school were either already adept at math and science, or did some sort of extra curricular music endeavour.

I think I want to make sure my kids, among other things, pick up some sort of music talent. I don't expect them to make Broadway, and it definitely won't be forced. But I hope I can encourage and steer them into singing, violin, guitar, or heck... even playing the spoons. I enjoyed singing up through my junior year of high school, and I wonder if that's helped me get the grades I get.

On a related note, Freemasonry teaches that the highest and holiest science is music. Above all else, God can communicate divine feelings and inspiration through music's channel. Neat, eh?

October

I love October. October colors are indescribably beautiful. (That photo is from a local canyon, by the way) October baseball -- need I say more? Perhaps the most endearing quality of this time of year is the anticpation of the coming holiday season. I know it gets commercialized, and for many that cheapens the celebration of the Saviour, but I love listening to Christmas music in malls, spending time with my wife shopping, getting excited about gift giving, and all the other joy that comes from Christmas. The only thing better than all that is the feeling that it's right around the corner. October is when it starts to get cold, it starts to snow in the tops of the mountains, when the wind snaps at you at night time, when you start having fires in the fireplace, when it's cold enough to cuddle on the couch during a Saturday night movie, when it's... when it's great.

I love October.

theme song

If ever a theme song existed for me, I suppose this it... By the way, that's Donny Osmond dancing in the background with the EM equation.

blog blurbs

I'll probably be seriously busy this week, so I doubt I'll post much. But I'm here.

it must needs be that i teach you

From Jacob's mouth:

48 Behold, if ye were holy I would speak unto you of holiness; but as ye are not holy, and ye look upon me as a teacher, it must needs be expedient that I teach you the consequences of sin.

I went to the Priesthood session of General Conference (for you non-LDS dudes and gals, twice a year all the Church leaders gather together in a HUGE hall in Salt Lake and speak to all Mormons (via satellite if you're not immediately there) about various issues and things. It's a time for us to hear the prophet speak. Very nice.) where they talked to us men.

As usual, we were chided (rightfully so) about duty. We all need to get more done, and not slack off... So that was ok.

Then they addressed the young men. You guessed it -- missions. That was cool. We need good missionaries out there, and we need young men willing to work. I had a wham-dinger of a time in France and would wholly recommend it to the next chap.

Then they got onto pornography and the proper way to treat your wife. Pornography is an evil sin and we can't be warned enough, but I couldn't help but think of that scripture I quoted up there. It made me wonder what kinds of things we would be able to learn about, what kinds of things the Lord would see fit to reveal if we didn't need to be warned and reminded of what sin is.

I suppose I'll just be patient.

I guess I've been tagged.

What do you like most about where you live?
It's the first place that's felt like home since I moved from Texas to Utah 8 years ago.

Is there anything strange about where you live?
Just me.

What's one of your all time favorite music albums and why?
I don't really have a favorite Album, but I suppose Weird Al's 'Bad Hair Day' would qualify. When I was in Texas, I had a pretty easy teenage timeperiod. Church was good, friends were good, and I felt like I was a mack daddy among the ladies at Church dances. This album was one that everyone listened to and sung along to at pool parties, on the way to and from Church dances, and in general what made us laugh.

Did you have a passion for something as a kid that you still have now?
Baseball.

I had a heavy rubber baseball that I'd throw against the small brick fireplace and then field the ball as a grounder as it bounced back. I did this while watching many-a World Series from the age of about 11 on up. 'Course, the strike really made me lose my lunch over everything. I'll have to blog about that later, but I was 13 or so when the strike hit in '94 and it never occurred to me that anyone could play baseball for any other reason than loving the game. Anyway, after my mission I watched the Angels-Giants World Series and got back into it.

I love baseball. :)

What do you like most about having a blog?
I feel like people are paying attention to me.

Who am I tagging?
Bryan, Emilie, Chance, Peter, and Eeyore.

almost joined peta

This past weekend, Bryan and Emilie decided that they wanted a cat on Saturday. So off they whisk myself and my better half to the humane society in Salt Lake City.

Man... I felt awful there. It was really depressing to see all the animals caged up like that. The worst was the section that housed the dogs. They had a little bulletin on each cage explaining about the dog. Breed, age, sex, what commands it knew, what animals/people it was good with, as well as the last one... why it was dropped off at the shelter.

Man it was horrible to read some of those. "Don't have enough time for him." "Misbehaves too much." "Gets into garbage too much." "Too much energy."

I felt like I wanted to join PETA and just volunteer all my time to finding homes and good people to take the animals. I left feeling really bad.

I hope I never visit an orphange. I'd probably just break down and cry.

kill bill

I watched Kill Bill (on TNT, of course) over the course of this week. I watched both volumes, so that I could make sure I got the full range of Killiness Billiness.

Sorry, Quentin, I thought it was kinda dumb. It was shaping up to be really good in the first 20 minutes of the first movie. I thought the different cinematography would go over well-- it's refreshing to see things different. I didn't even mind the out of order sequence of 'chapters.' (I guess other Quentin Tarantino movies have this same kind of weird sequence. Meh.) However much it was building to be a decent movie, I had radically changed my mind by the end.

Three things kill a movie for me:

• Cheesy dialogue
  
• Cheesy acting
  
• Diversions from the established reality
  

Kill Bill basically had all three. Cheesy dialogue and acting require little explanation, although our individual tastes probably range significantly. However, the reality point needs a bit more elaboration. Since TNT filtered out the swearing, violence, and sex, there's very little to rant/report on there.

Movie reality is established by the element of the story. Obviously we can't have space travel à la Star Trek, but inside the Trek world we've created these established facts. I wouldn't expect people to sword fight on the warp nacelle going through a wormhole during a Star Trek episode. It's just not believable. With Kill Bill, there were a few instances where there was some pretty cool swordfighting shaping up, only to have superhero comic book type moves employed. This wouldn't have been bad, except I got the impression that this was a realistic story. When superhero leaps and jumps came into play, it just didn't mesh. It wasn't believable.

Again, sorry Quentin, and others who enjoyed the film, I didn't like it. But who cares.

Night Falls on Narnia

I finished the Chronicles of Narnia this morning. I would have had it done sooner, but as I TA this lab, these kids need my help every two seconds! Sheesh! What was that about reading while on the job? Nevermind.

I really enjoyed the books. I don't really want to offer any commentary at this point; I'm not really anyone who's particularly bright with literature, so I doubt my feedback is worth the bandwidth this blog takes up. I did enjoy it. Just wanted to say I had finished it.

A short note about reading, though... People just don't do it anymore. At least we don't read anything of note. At least I don't think so. So after I read the next book on the list, Mere Christianity, I want to go and get one Penguin Classic at a time, and read it. You know, good books. Things we ought to all have read. Little Women, the Grapes of Wrath, and other books that I'm not familiar with because I don't read. I've even got a Koran I'm gonna read.

Yeah, we should read more.

personality tests

You Are Gonzo the Great

"Is something burning in here? Oh, it's just me." You're a total nutball who will do anything for attention. The first to take a dare, you'll pull almost any stunt. You're one weird looking creature, but your chickens don't mind!

The Muppet Personality Test

And also...

You Are Batman

Billionaire playboy by day. Saving the world by night. And you're not even a true superhero. Just someone with a lot of expensive toys!

What Superhero Are You?

Batman rocks.

St. John's Espiscopal Church

I attended Episcopal services for the first time on Sunday Morning. It was very different. I was a bit shocked at the level of freedom in theology they allow you to have and remain a member of the parish/diocese/Church. I realize the desire to not control thought, but if there's no harmony in doctrine, I personally have a hard time testing it to see if it's truth. One lady, giving a talk/discourse during the service, actually left a disclaimer open to the effect that the Bible is either a set of good rules or the word of God. I was really surprised at that.

But that doesn't matter. I didn't go to try to prove points of doctrine, and I didn't even get into any discussions. I'm sure they knew I was Mormon, but I didn't go there to evangelize. I really, honest to goodness, wanted to see other people worship. Seeing other people worship, especially when you don't hold to the tenets of their faith, is a very emotional experience. They trust me not to mock (which I hope I didn't sound mocking in the preceeding paragraph) and they trust me to respect their feelings. It was very touching to see heads bowed in prayer, and to see people kneeling and crossing themselves. Just because they don't believe the same way I do, or have the entire revealed word of God, this does not mean they love God any less than I do. We truly are all children of our Heavenly Father, and He loves us regardless of the way we worship Him. I appreciated the service very much.

St. Murphy

Today I taught for the first time. I had a real nice set of slides all prepared. I had a pretty good lesson plan. I had a very well planned idea of how I was going to teach and approximately how much time it would take. So what happened?

I lost my jumpdrive that had my lecture saved to it. Murphy's law...

I always lose jumpdrives. I've lost this one 10 or so times over, only to find it in some remote region of the closet after it fell out of a pocket. I think this particular one has also been through the washer at least once. They're sturdy little things, but dang... I really could have used it today. So instead I shot from the hip, opened the book, and filled in as much as I could remember. Ugh. I felt like it was awful, but the students didn't seem to mind...

bloggers block yet again

I don't know why I feel so busy. I really shouldn't be. I'm taking fewer classes, but it still seems like I just have so much to do.

So, yeah. I don't feel a big post coming on right now. I'm a bit anxious, I get to teach for an absent professor twice this upcoming week and following week, and I don't really want to. It's a digital design course, something I haven't taken for a good 2 years. Eeyore is getting an MRI. My wife is going for a job today at 4:30. I also have to prepare for labs I TA in addition to teaching the class.

My feelings are best summed up between a conversation between myself and a good friend of mine.

Me: Man this bites. I don't want to be here.
Friend: Where would you rather be?
Me: On a yacht halfway between Tahiti and Hawaii.
Friend: Wouldn't we all...

news tidbits

Back from Yellowstone. That was awesome. The cabin bed mattresses were HORRIBLE. Poor Gonzo had some difficulty sleeping. That was about the only real trouble those children gave us. They were excellent to have along. As I've said so often before, I wish I had better command of language. What I say just isn't justice to what Yellowstone offers. I only wish I could have stayed there longer. Lousy classes...

In the meantime, life is going pretty well. That's a big statement from a guy like me. Lots of stuff is coming up that I'm pretty excited about. Mrs. Sixline and I are exploring investment opportunities, hoping to keep financial goals alive. People today just don't worry about stuff like that, although we should. I also found out that some really good friends of mine were hurt pretty bad when I didn't invite them to my wedding. It was totally inconsiderate on my part, and I admitted to them that I was wrong and apologized profusely.

Good friends are rare. Really, with the twists and turns of life it's hard to keep in contact. It's hard to find people you can really trust with your children, with your past, and with all your weaknesses. It's really a bad thing if a good friendship ends because of selfishness. I'll explain why I didn't invite them later, but that really doesn't help. ~sighs~ Mistakes aren't any fun. Not for the guy making them, and definitely not for the guy who has them happen to him.

Under that light, it's a bit ironic that I've been feeling good the past few weeks. It's always hard for me to feel good; my shortcomings are always in focus and I'm the kind of guy who doesn't like to relax until the work is done. There's always work to be done, though, and there's nothing wrong with feeling like you're moving along the way you like.

Here's to progress.

Off to yellowstone...

Leaving this afternoon with the Muppets. I'm pretty excited.

By the way, my discrete math professor is a hoot. I think he missed his true calling in life, either court jester or stand up comic. I like that class quite a bit so far.

c'est l'heure de partir

I used to think that when it will be time to leave Logan, I would cry and cry. I have really enjoyed it here. I didn't take to high school that much, so I think I'm using up my school spirit on the university here. I really have enjoyed my time. For the past 4 years I've moved through the program with roughly the same set of kids, roughly the same set of professors, and roughly the same story day in day out. I like routine.

I had become so acquainted with life as an Aggie that I was not worried about starting school for the first time ever this year. I even have a relatively easy school load. Only one engineering class, one math class, a creative arts class, and a family finance class. I also snooze through a seminar class, but there's so little required of me except attendance I'm hesitant to call it a class.

Here I am, three days into the semester. Most of the group that moved along with me is gone. I don't have the same set of professors because I'm not taking as many engineering classes. I've switched jobs, so that's new. To add to this feeling of emptiness, the only engineering class I am in only has 5 kids in it. Only five.

So I feel like I'm at a party where I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but everyone else has gone home, the band is starting to put away their instruments, and now I have to leave too. Except I'm not leaving. I still have (see previous post) three more semesters including this one to complete my MS.

This has made me re-emphasize in my own mind just how I feel on a few topics. Number one, above all and foremost, I am glad I am married. The person who means the most to me will never 'move on' and leave. I'm not talking about tragic loss of a spouse, I'm talking about how our lives are intertwined eternally. That's reassuring for someone who doesn't like change. Secondly, the things that bring me joy and security need to be centered on me what I have stewardship over. Lastly, this has made me a bit wiser. I don't know why, but I feel a bit older. I feel a step or two closer to a mortgage, kids, baseball practice, a dog, and a mini-van. It's sobering, and it re-awakens in me the desire to prepare myself to be a good father.

Interesting experience, all in all.

back to school

Three more semesters... just three more semesters... just three more semesters...

hackneyed and trite

I hate saying things that have been said a million times by people a million times more eloquent than I.

For example, I'm one of the ones who ALWAYS gets up on fast and testimony Sunday. I know, I know, I should share the pulpit, and I do try to skip once or twice a year, but I really enjoy bearing testimony. I just hate saying the most important parts that need to be said because I sound like a parrot. I'm not parroting what I hear, I just don't know how else to say what's been said so many times before. Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. He saw God. He didn't have a vision, he didn't dream it, it wasn't a trance, it wasn't symbolic, it wasn't a spiritual sight. God and Jesus Christ physically came down and stood in the air above him and he saw them. It's hard to say that with the kind of force that it deserves.

Far above that is a testimony of the Savior. How do you say what's been said so many times? I'm afraid to bear testimony of the Savior sometimes because I don't want it to come out weak. This is a horrible excuse, and believe me, I have never shirked an opportunity to testify of the Lord. I just don't want the other guy to go 'Yeah whatever you religious nut.' That's insulting to me and to the One I testify of.

I've a sinking suspicion that I should just let it go; i.e. let go and let God. It's hard, though. Bearing testimony of the Savior is an important thing. If the Spirit is there, it can change someone's life. If it's not, especially because of something *I* did, then... man I just don't want to face that.

I guess part of it is my pride, too. I read about Paul, Alma, Amulek, and Peter, and all these other great men who bear testimony and people go "Holy smokes, mate. We'd better repent and get baptized." I wish I could do that-- not because I want look in the mirror and go "Wow I'm awesome." but rather because there are people out there who need the Gospel. Bringing that joy to them brings me joy as well, and that's the only selfish part about it. I'd really just like to see everyone accept the truth. Alas, it is not to be.

my competitive side

As a rule, I don't get competitive.

I just don't see the point in a lot of things that your average person competes in. Board games? I'd rather keep Mrs. Sixline happy during the game. Pick up sports games? Really, in the span of the cosmos, the outcome of a lousy basketball game and whether or not that was a foul don't matter one iota.

It's not like nothing matters to me... I just don't know how to define my sorting algorithm. Some things I just end up not caring about. The things I do care about have nothing to do with whether or not the next guy is good at it too. Logic, wisdom, learning, and personal improvement don't really involve who's in line before you and behind you, although where you stand relative to the rest of the world always plays at least a small part, I suppose.

I wish I were more competitive. I was thinking earlier today about how discipline and flair for living are sometimes a mutually exclusive pair. I know tons of very disciplined students that I think are incapable of relaxing and having fun. They probably think I'm very indolent and lazy. Many of my more diligent acquaintances seem to be competitive as well as disciplined. It happens often enough to make me opine that the two are part and partial.

Most of this stuff is just my thoughts on the subject, not a treatise spelling out a thoroughly reviewed human sociological condition. I guess what I'm getting at, is that I very often feel like a lazy slob and I wish I had the get-up-and-go to be able to get things done.

feminists

When women tell me they’re a feminist, my response is always the same: “Oh, totally. I hate men too. Those mongrels.”

My sarcasm is usually very apparent, but it always adequately sends the message that I think that feminists hate men-- all men, to be exact. Obviously this is my own prejudice against feminists, but for right now, it's the way I feel. In fact, to take it a step further, I always think they hate me. Pretty big ego of mine, eh? What could I have done to possibly elicit such strong feelings from women I’ve only just met? I try to treat women with kindness, and regardless of my penchant for teasing my wife about being horrible because she won’t satisfy my laziness and get me a sandwich (she usually makes me get it myself, can you believe that?!) I think very highly of women, and I definitely don't hate them.

The woman I know best is Mrs. Sixline. She’s fantastic. We have our differences and I don’t want to say our marriage is looked at with starry eyes or through rose colored glasses. Despite our imperfections, we get along more often than not. When we are getting along we’re laughing and playing and talking and having fun. I see her as an equal, and I never ‘lay down the law,’ as it were. I don’t tell her how it is, and I don’t boss her around. When decisions come for whether or not I continue education, or whether or not we move, or where we go, she’s involved and I need her input so we can do what's best. My desires to do what I want in the quotidian are governed by simple selfish impulses to do things my way, not an overbearing pressure to be the man and show the helpless little wifey how to get things done. It's a part of learning to be one.

I respect her. I respect what she does. She has worked very hard throughout the whole of our marriage, taking on the role of primary breadwinner and housewife because I’m so often at school. When we have children, she will have the God-given task of being primary care-giver. She will be there in a way I can't. She will be Mom. There are few honors that are as esteemed as that of mother. She is so nurturing; I have relied on her time and time again to hold me in her loving arms and encourage me when I’ve been down because of depression. She’s held me up during times of stress when I need to make sure I do well on finals. She has been patient with me far more than I have had to be patient with her. She’s beautiful, she’s wonderful, she’s pleasing, and without her I wouldn’t be whole.

Why make an enemy of my greatest ally?

I think this is what unnerves me most upset about feminists. I recognize that men make mistakes, and some men have committed acts of unthinkable malice and selfishness towards women. But regardless of all my mistakes, I haven’t committed gross acts against women. If I’m grouped up in that category, then that means that I am guilty of wronging my wife and I don’t like that one bit. Just the thought of being guilty of wrongdoing against wracks me with horror. I ask her, very often, if she feels oppressed in anyway because of my attitudes, or if she feels slighted because she isn’t getting an education, or if she feels trapped by being a housewife. I want to make sure she’s happy and feels fulfilled in our marriage. I take full responsibility for my role in her well being. What more can I do for her?

I have no goals other than that. I have no career aspirations. I have no desire to flash my degree around in social circles and feel good about myself. My one and only goal in life is to do whatever I can to be a good husband and father. I expect the same from my wife; that she be a good wife and mother. This is not to say that we can’t take hobbies, or that she can’t go off with the girls while I baby-sit. Of course we need and want friends and family. I love my wife. I’m no poet, and everything I say sounds so trite and hackneyed. I wish that men would walk up to their responsibilities. I wish that men would treat women the way they deserve to be treated. Lots of us guys feel that way. So if you’re a feminist, try to remember that the next time the door is held for you. It’s not an insult; it’s an honor.

blogger's block

I bet I'm not the first to have this problem.

I have no idea what to blog about. Lots of stuff is going on in life, but I don't really know how to feel important about it. I also hate it when I think something is REALLY important, but when it comes out in writing, it sounds so ridiculous and trivial.

Oh well.

I'll figure out what to post on later.

Story time

I recently finished Cal Ripken Jr's autobiography, The Only Way I Know. At first, the literary style (if I'm even qualified to make an accurate analysis of such) kinda bugged me. It was written the way he spoke, almost as if all I was reading was a monologue. I had never read an autobiogrpahy before, so I didn't know if that was the style of autobiographies or not. Since it's my first, I still don't know. By the end, though, I had realized that it felt like Cal Ripken Jr was sitting next to me telling me the details of his life. After it was over, I felt sad. It was weird, but I had almost pictured him sitting with me just telling me his story. I can only read it once and have it feel that way.

Heroes are funny things. Somehow, we always think they'll be taller. Somehow we're always too disappointed to find out they're only human. Many of us have been disillusioned in one way or another when it came to heroes. Thomas Jefferson owned slaves. Barry Bonds took steroids. (Or did he?!) George Washington took candy from babies. One particularly pleasing part of Cal's story was the fact that I agreed with him on so many points. I believe him when he says that although athelete's are role models. I believe him when he says that the craft of the game of baseball is suffering because of (my words here) selfish players who don't want to learn the fine art of the game. I believe him when he says there's nothing more to your job than going in and doing it everyday. I like Cal that much more now. I wasn't disappointed with getting to know him in the book. Heroes are funny things. Good heroes are lucky things.

money money money

I got a new grant! Hooray! Evidently juniors and seniors majoring in a math/science/engineering program get extra money this year. I love free money.

I just don't feel a big post yet, so to all my faithful avid readers, I humbly and abjectly apologize.

I just kinda want school to start, just so I can have something to do other than work. We have another lidar campaign coming up in September, and so I'll have to take time off from school to go out to California and shoot our laser. This one will be a bit more glamorous. Normally my work is, in a nutshell, an analyzation of how much 'gas' is released into air by a swine farm. Yes, pig farts from a barn. Now I'll go to an almond farm and scan the pollution that comes from almond harvesting. Neat-o.

Inspiration, not explanation.

My brother had a most excellent point the other day. He, my brother-in-law and I were discussing how much we should pay attention to Church books. It is my personal feeling that I'd rather just read the Standard Works themselves, and touch lightly on the writings of modern day prophets and the like. Then here comes my brother, who says "Well, I guess it depends on whether or not the book was written for inspiration, or for explanation. Most general authorities try to inspire you, not explain every little scripture to you."

I liked that. I'd rather try to figure things out as I go along, and when I need to be reminded of why I stand up, I'll pick up a general authority book.

Back.

And while I was gone...

The apartment we were looking at was rented. (They were going to give us a free washer and dryer.)

My father-in-law backed into my car, which is now in the shop.

And I stubbed my toe.