Overdue Residue

The blogging community is a writing one. Some write journals, others compile recipes, some postulate on the human condition, and some write fiction. At any rate, if you read this, you are a writer of sorts. Often in my history of post-writing there have been lingering ideas, subjects I want to write about. Sometimes they build up and I finally write about them. Other times, they meet oblivion itself.

I'm in the same situation in the musical world: musical ideas build up, never get finished because I either forget about them or never progress with them. The greatest cause for the latter is not knowing how or what to do with them, usually lyrically. I'm surprised at how long I can hold on to an idea without it fleeing the confines of my memory. In fact, I remember some unfinished ideas that I wish would fly the coop.

What am I to do with these? Some of them are good, others I love. How do you shock the writer's block? Do you ever give up on something you feel passionate about?

Lisht

Every year, a few days before Christmas, I've been asked by my parents what I wanted. "We don't really know what to get you, so please help us out." A Christmas list would have been a convenience to them, but not to me. 1) Time invested in list-making could be wasted elsewhere, and 2) if I don't expect anything, I won't be disappointed. These things have discouraged Christmas lists for most of my life. The last time I made a Christmas list could have been when I was 12 or younger.

Times are changing! My brother Kyle asked me the other day what I wanted, and I didn't know what to say. I've given it some thought, but received no results. Then I gave it some more thought and this is what I've come up with:

• Musical intruements and equipment of any sort. Dinky recorders, a KAOSS pad, an obscure eastern string instruement, a guitar fret file, anything really. These things bring as much joy as I want them to for an indefinite period of time.
• A new soldering iron. The one I've been using is old and difficult to work with. It'd be nice if I had a smallish tip to go with it, and the instant heat-up models have interested me for years without convincing me to get one. That may be because of battery usage, but I'm not sure.
  
• As an early gift, could someone teach/refresh me on all of Calc 2 before Dec. 15? I'm a quick learner who is unaware of his learning style, and that has been a disappointing factor in my education.
• Heck, a ski trip would be cool
• Star Trek ship model kits? That's always fun
• Piano tuning muting wedges and tempering felt
• Somewhere to watch the Doctor Who Christmas special
• Tools are always nice
• Any kind of practical item. Kitchen utensils and gadgets, car accessories, you know, that kind of stuff.
• Not clothes (although I won't turn them down, I tend to take care of myself there)

A Valet Parking Service...for wallets

This morning, I asked Google where my wallet is. Seems like it's been missing since Saturday. Google frowned, told me it didn't know. It also seems like many others are asking themselves the same question. Where have all the wallets gone? I keep hoping I'll get a call saying my wallet's dry cleaning has been completed and is ready for pickup, or another call where I'll pick up, hear a nose sniffle followed by a whimpering wallet telling me it's ready to come home.

At any rate, when I find it or (*gulp*) replace everything within and get a new one, I'm thinking of hiring someone to follow me around and hold it for me. You know, like a butler who just keeps my wallet. "Werthers, give the poor man a nickel," followed by my esteemed butler pulling out a $355 bill (I'm pushing legislation for its creation due to its common usage) and handing it to the vagrant.

I'd be a terrible wallet butler, as my most recent loss has proven. I've looked everywhere (except for where it is). I keep thinking about Spock: "If you eliminate the impossible - anything that remains, however unlikely, must be the truth." It's impossible that my wallet is still in my pocket. Unfortunately, that's all I have to go on. More unfortunately, checks are all I have to go on. If you see my duct tape-covered bamboo wallet without cash but with many cards, let me know. Oh, and if you want to be a wallet butler, let me know.

Don't bank on net banks

In our present day banking system, money can be transferred in and out of a bank account more quickly than before. Most banks have an online access to funds, statements, loans, account openings and closings, and almost anything you can do face to face with a teller. Teller you what, it'll be interesting (and scary) to witness the first digital run on a bank. At the news of a banks closings, what will the members do? With debit cards and ATMs, quick purchases and cash back can be made in an effort to keep money. PayPal offers another at least temporary solution maybe, members trying to transfer funds to that successful money transfer empire. Or, if you're an 80s movie fan, Matthew Broderick will simply hook his computer up and put all the money in his account and you can just go talk to him to get it back. Beware Mr. Potter; I think he's just a mean old man.

diffident:

There's no good reason why an employer should hire me, especially in my fields of interest. I can and will do a good job when I'm hired, I just don't know who will be the ones willing to take a risk on a washed-up bub guy like me and if it will be one of my top-choice jobs. I'm willing to take a job I don't necessarily want, but I was recently told it's okay to go for something I want. So, whoever you are or will be, future employers, I salute you.

Flares don't act like that

Last night's UFO sightings (I use "UFO" by its definition, not necessarily with connotations of extraterrestrial life) above Phoenix have me asking questions and wanting answers. Not whether there is life from or on other planets, but whether there will ever be any kind of sighting by a more professional cameraman, or perhaps one with a tripod. Sightings are not rare, but good film quality is. Apparently, all talented camera men and their higher quality cameras are far too busy to capture these lights, crafts, and shapes in the skies.

Or are they?

I make conjecture: professional cameramen are behind the UFO phenomena. It's quite possible. Once, I tried to buy a really expensive camera. Before I realized I had $5 to my name and nothing else, they took me in a room in the back and started asking me questions, taking my finger prints, hooking up machinery to me. This ceased when they took out my wallet, witnessed its emptiness, and threw me out of the store. I believe I was being initiated into a secret society devoted to keeping amateur photographers busy so we professionals could corner the photography market. It is my belief that the best way to do this is creating UFO fakes, and the amateurs leave the parties they were gigging, the weddings, newspaper jobs (Eddie Brock, I believe, was a member of this society and his attempts at UFO production were failures on his rival Peter Parker, who was used to balancing his interests already), and car shows. Proof: a UFO sighting in Florida last night was explained by some as sky lanterns from a local wedding. I don't doubt it at all, and I wouldn't put it past those pro-phos.

Will they be exposed? Can the bloggosphere relieve me of this insufferable secret? Or of my athlete's foot? Please, world, read this and know it is true: UFOs are the brainchildren of photographers.

An Easy One

My stomach turned at the thought, lurching like dodging something as inevitable as the truth. Something I hadn't expected, but something I wanted, both at the same time. No, I definitely wanted to live in Provo this summer. An atmosphere of living growth, a fall backwards would become more difficult. It'd give me the chance to have a better job more suited to me while being part of an environment easier to live in. Also, like symbiosis, I'd be able to support and encourage Natalie as she did the same for me. It sounded like a bargain; there shouldn't be any question about it, right?

"I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents..." Nephi wasn't righteous by default. The goodliness of his parents allowed him the opportunity, however, to learn, progress, and grow. Isn't that just like me? Goodly parents. And I contribute myself into those who share a characteristic with Nephi, the most likened, compared, and thoroughly read prophet of the Book of Mormon. My parents, I can say of a surety, are righteous people.

A tornado is created when warm air and cool air find themselves misplaced and they begin a deadly dance to restore nature to the most stable configuration. My principles aren't nearly as precise as those of nature. My mind shifts with the breeze, my emotions with the humidity. Not literally, it's just poetic speech, yo. Two things that exist separately and completely, both correct: my wish to live in Provo, my wish to please my parents and follow their counsel. Both are notions guided by the Spirit, both are good things, both are air. One is cool, and the other warm; the designation is unimportant. Both are air. If partaken, they will bring life. They're just, you know, different.

A little deadly dance began in my soul. Small, but the great disasters of the world, too, are small enough to fit on our little globe. Calamity experienced is greater always than calamity observed. An itch on my brain. Someone had pulled the drain plug out of my tub full of excitement and expectations as I realized in the end, I should more greatly acknowledge my parents' advice, whatever end to the prospect of living out West that brought. In such a way were my thoughts funneled.

Is it wrong to take righteous advice? Never. Is it wrong to not follow righteous advice? Not always. Think of the first tornado, taking its path through the Garden of Eden: multiply; don't eat it! Both laws, both conflicting. Like a Kobayashi Maru, what to do, what to do? No correct solution. "A test of character," Kirk called it. Then what's my character? Who am I?

Sucking it up, I decided who I was. I knew, for the day at least, I was a son first and the traveler to Provo second. The two things don't have to conflict. They may not, but I realize the spiritual security available to those following sound advice from their parents. Does this make me selfish? I hope not; it's been painful enough coming to this point without the pains of selfishness!

Humility is what I seek, a willingness to obey my sound-minded parents here on earth and directives from my Father on high, whatever the implications are. This is difficult! This is possible.

Natalie, I love you. See you this summer? It's quite possible. I love you either way, though. From afar and up close, we're still us. Whatever these next couple weeks bring, I know they'll still bring love.

And there's no conflict about that.