Some fires are better left unfed, some pages better left unread, some words are better left unsaid.

So all I can do now is whisper or talk like Ned from South Park. It’s crazy how easy it is to take things for granted. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost my voice permanently.

Last night’s Halloween party wasn’t too bad. It was at an old ward friend’s house. His dad was one of the principle authors of WordPerfect. I’ve never been in a house so big. Indoor pool, basketball court, theatre, game room, dance floor and dj booth. This was only a small piece of the basement.

I’m pretty easy going about things, but I find I’m going crazy without my watch. I lost it about two weeks ago, and I’ve become convinced that I’m a control freak when anything affects me directly. It seems like people obsessed with time are normally ultra organized and have their schedules outlined in 10 minute intervals on their PDA’s for the next three years. My case seems to be a bit more analytical for the sake of analysis. It’s just like when I go to the grocery store; I ALWAYS look at the nutritional facts. Not because I’m a health freak (though I am more conscientious than the average person) but because I simply want to know what I’m putting in my body. With time, I don’t care so much that everything is perfect; I just want to know how much time things are taking.

Did you add up all the cards left to play?

So for the first time in like two years, I think I’ve come down with something. Turns out rinsing a spoon off with hot water probably isn’t enough to kill my roommate’s bacteria. Oh well, once again, that is a lesson I already knew and didn't need to learn again.

I had a long conversation with my marine friend last night. “My testimony came from watching a man’s eyes roll back as he fell over. I went back to base and got on my knees because I had to know if I’d done a bad thing. Had I taken this man’s only chance? Had I single-handedly sent him to Hell? My testimony never could have come from a ‘positive’ experiences.”

From a guy who won’t hesitate to tell you how much he hates Pakistanis and Muslims, it was nice to see a bit more of his true feelings.

I often wonder how much of the normal “testimony” is conditioned lip service. Yep, most people don’t have the opportunity to take another’s life, and that’s a good thing. We have to build our testimonies from other things. I wonder how often people form testimonies from virtually nothing because they just want it. I do believe that God can talk to anyone. I must be careful not to discount the testimonies of people out here, but at the same time, I have trouble believing them sometimes.

Everything good about me; every bit of strength of character and testimony I’ve built over the past ten years has come from blood, sweat, and tears. It seems like the worst some people have seen is a grandmother dieing of cancer or a family member getting divorced. How can you build your soul from such “trials.” How can a person claim to have done so? It’s no wonder many out here live in a fantasy land. They have no reason not to. I must remember that people are to be served and loved, not judged and despised. Everyone encounters the dark roads, eventually.

So I walk alone, I ask no quarter friend, I walk alone til I find you again

The best part of my day has become coming home around 6:30 and turning the door knob to my apartment. If the door is locked, life is blissful. I like my roommates. In fact, though the one I’m closest to wants to move, I don’t want to go with him. I like the other guys THAT much.

I haven’t been on a date in at least a month and a half, but I feel burnt out anyway. It could be that my co-worker has been meaning to set me up with this girl I already know (from a class two years ago), but hasn’t been able to find a free moment to do so in oh I don’t know THREE WEEKS. I just hit that point that I don’t have the energy to be selfishly irritated anymore.

My next fluids test is tomorrow. Does my future depend on it? Most certainly. I’ve just got to stay calm about the whole thing.

Reminder: People in that class aren’t smarter than me; I am the master of my destiny.

I lost my watch a week ago, and it is seriously driving me insane. I put off HW for an hour yesterday to clean my room in hopes of finding it. No luck at all. It’s not that I’m obsessive about time; I just can’t stand to lose things.

Should I dress up for Halloween? I’m thinking “No.” It’s a real shame, but it’s either dumb multi-ward dances or hang out with a friend I’m trying to see less of. Maybe I’ll just disappear for the whole weekend.

Every day you're on my mind, Pain is feeling passing time

Weekend conclusions:

Interesting people believe in doing things.
You can't ever forget that people are people. Strangely, that can be a hard thing to do in this age of long distance communication.
You really can forget about people when you stop looking at their pictures, sending them letters, and getting responses.
$13 of Halloween candy is enough to kill a man, even divied up five ways. <groan>

Revelations come to people so slow Frightening

This post is truly characteristic of the heading to my blog.

Last night, Stacie and Jeri stopped by. Jeri’s sister died from a drug overdose the night before. I cannot comprehend what it must feel like. There is no solace. No reparation. No real comfort. No peace. Only a large void. No matter what you do, when a loved one dies, they’re gone. No matter how you look at it, no matter how much you cry, curse God, and writhe in you sleep, the facts remain. Being with Jeri last night was quite sobering, yet, I must still acknowledge that all trials to have purpose. Everything in my own life that has made me grow or progress in any significant way, has been horrendously difficult. Every personal philosophy, every muscle, and every ounce of mental fortitude I possess have come from blood, sweat, and tears. It is ludicrous to be grateful for trials while they are happening, but I wouldn’t trade my past for anything.

It reminds me of the altered chous to Adam's Song

I never conquered, rarely came
tomorrow holds such better days
Days when I can still feel alive
Well I can't wait to get outside
the world is wide, the time goes by
the tour is over, I've survived
And I can't wait 'til I get home to pass the time in my room alone.

Changing the subject, there’s a BB topic about never getting married. I think it's sad that there are so many people who feel they are practically worthless in the eyes of others. It’s sad that many of my friends that have the “fraud” complex. It’s sad that so few see the things about them that make them beautiful. There are others that have left Provo who I wish I could’ve met. At least I could have been one more to tell them, “No, you aren’t crazy. You have as much worth as anyone else. People are people. Rather than allow them to make you feel out of place,inferior, and angry, you should pity them and be grateful that God blessed you with perception. Yes, there is sadness and depresion in knowldege and understanding, but there is also warmth, peace, and fulfillment that will bring a joy that many others will never know."

Changing the subject again. Sometimes I feel like I need to restate my thoughts just to remind myself what matters. I don’t care about a big fancy job or degree. I don’t care about money or vacations. I don’t care about recognition. I don’t care about having the physique of an underwear model or the speed of a world class athlete. All I need is a wife, a dog, and a small piece of land away from the world. So WHY am I working towards all those other things? I guess maybe I don't feel I can attain the latter without the former. Myabe having the things that don't matter will better enable me to understand and apprciate the things that do once I find them. I don't know.

It's all i'm doing now, listening for patterns in the sound of an endless static sea

Imagine for a second that you devote your life to one sole purpose. For an entire year, everything you do and think about is in relation to your goal. EVERY minute of EVERY day and night, everything you eat, everything you spend your time on. Imagine now that the year’s preparation comes down to a 4 hour competition. You lose. For another year, you do the same thing. You lose again. A third and fourth year go by with the same results. In the fifth year you somehow find a way to continue to progress. You improve more than ever before. Your peers agree that you’ve hit a new level. You know that this year is going to be the one. You lose again. What do you do next? Are you an idiot or are you inspiring?

Like I said simultaneously everything that’s right and wrong with sports.

Some good friends came over for dinner last night. One of them is still in love with her old boyfriend who just got back from a mission in August. He wants to maintain a close friendship but doesn’t want to date her. This is understandable because who in their right mind knows what they really want at 21. Still, it’s tearing my friend to pieces because she can’t move on until there is some level of closure which there really can’t be for a long time. Ughhh. What a mess. Sadly, I know exactly how she feels.

Don't don't you sound so excited showing me your vanity?

A few of this week's highlights.

So Monday morning (7:30 am) I’m riding to school on my bike. As I’m pulling into the bike racks at the Clyde building, I notice a janitesse sweeping the walk. Being a guy, naturally, I look off in her direction. Smooth as 50 grit sand paper, I promptly crash into the bike racks evoking a shriek from the tired/bored/unsuspecting custodial worker.

Saturday is the annual Mr. Olympia competition. Ronnie Coleman, Jay Cutler, and Gunter Schlierkamp look to be the top three. How classy are the 19 competitors? Let’s take a look.

From Flexonline.com

"Gustavo Badell, third in the Olympia last year, personally calling out Ronnie Coleman for an impromptu posedown. Gustavo stripped down and stepped onto conference table, while Ronnie declined to do the same. To Gustavo’s claim that he could move up and win the crown, Ronnie replied, “Somebody ought to take the crack from that fool.”

And this clown isn't even going to make it to the top 5

Mustafa Mohammad, making the claim that he had the biggest legs in bodybuilding, which led to a friendly thigh-vs.-thigh comparison with Branch Warren. After an equal response to both from the crowd, Cicherillo called the showdown a draw.

Amusing or disgusting? Both I guess

Also notable is what didn’t happen, and that’s a repeat of last year, in which Gunter and Ronnie exchanged words that melted down into a frenetic and unexpected posedown. While Jay and Gunter spoke strongly, saying they have what it takes this year to win it all and beat Ronnie, they seemed willing to save the physical conflict for Saturday."

As you can see, bodybuilding press conferences typically consist of two 300 pound, normally dressed behemoths shouting at each other. A minute later, two 300 pound speedo clad behemounths continuing to shoult while quickly trying to hit different poses as they fling insults back and forth. If that’s not good old fashioned American sportsmanship, I don’t know what is.

BYU homecoming is also this week. Homecoming…HA

Yesterday, outside Cost-Co, some dude was giving away black Labrador pups. Naturally my roommate couldn’t resist. To bad we have to leave him at a friend’s house south of campus. This is yet one more reason to move out of Brandbury.

Ah glorious day.

And in all the idiots I see Thoughtless men casting doubts on me Enlightening

Ahhh... My foot works fully again, and my grip is back to normal. So I’ve got a few winter routines:

1)The creatine laced meat-head.
2)The struggling triathloner
3)The uber swimmer.

Pros
1) I might be able to get my bench press above 280 and beyond. Further establish dominance/identity in the ward. Look better if I go for the Trojan Man Halloween costume (admittedly, that probably won't happen).
2) I’d be in better shape come spring. My abs would look better. Overall aerobic condition would be optimal.
3) I need the most practice in this area. Swimmers have to use their arms a lot, so it would be a good supplement to weight-lifting.

Cons
1)Chicks don’t dig muscles. Most prefer the 150lb me to the 165lb me. Too bad I’m not taller. My endurance will plummet.
2)Training in the cold sucks. If I don’t eat like crazy I’ll lose even more weight. Endurance training is more mentally taxing.
3)The 24 hour pool is miniscule. It’s crowded. I haven’t mastered flip turns yet.

hmmm....

So I'm hunched over a typewritter, I guess you could call it "painting in a cage."

So Friday…

Finished class and work
Didn’t get AJ’s number, but I did set up a tentative double with Chris however. That’s a start.
Ben never showed up so I didn’t touch his motorcycle.
Jake was running late and didn’t buy new break pads.
Didn’t get around to running, but I did make it to the gym.
Didn’t make it to Low’s, so my mirror is unfinished and hair still uncut.
I DID make it to the mall, and I AM certain I won’t be going back for a long time.
I didn’t talk to Shelley, but I DID talk to her about her car on Sunday.

Friday tally: 4/9

Saturday

Ward service project (aka we've got nothing better to do than transplant cilantro)
Got reacquainted with Lindsey; it turns out that life sucks when the guy you love is engaged to someone else.
Went out on an impulse and drove with Jessica to SLC to buy...a shirt.
Took 20 wrong turns because it was dark and raining
Went to Octoberfest…

Sunday

Twenty hours of church meetings
Reaffirmed that my ward has at most little dating potential
Met a new girl anyway
Watched 7 of the 18 inning Astros/Braves game
Called Joseph to laugh at him and his loser team
Listened to Jordan’s 45 minute, "I’m not really a feminatzi" shpeel
Talked briefly to Cristina and remembered all over again that emotion and the empirical world can never be fully separated if you're anything living. I should talk less.

Weekend synopsis: I almost pulled it off, but not quite.

I'll kick and scream or kneel and bleed. I'll fight like Hell to hide that I'm giving up.

An engineering problem is an engineering problem, right? A degree is a degree. That’s what a lot of employers will tell you once you pick your discipline. Nope. At least not according to grad schools.

After researching ten different grad schools, I’ve learned that even after you divide the schools like EE, ME, ChemE, CE, Computer Engineering and so on, you have M.S.E., M.S.(EE, ME, ChemE), and ME(EE, CE, ChemE, ME). You’ve also got fifty different Ph.D’s. My dad thinks I should be careful not to go interdisciplinary because I might water down my degree. He has a point, but like I said before doesn’t understand how little I care about chemicals. Dr. Solen said that ChemE’s get paid about $20,000 more when all is said and done, so as always I’ve go plenty to stew on this week. Fuel cell research is looking good, but I guess that in the end, getting into the school I want is more important than whether I go ME or ChemE. Which of the two programs at each school do I apply to? I’m tired of thinking about this crap. I think I’ll go sniff chemicals.

So I'll find my fears and face them, or I'll cower like a dog.

Ah... glorious Fridays where you're ahead of schedule and can go home early.

Agenda:
Class now
Work until 3:00
Get AJ's number and hopefully forget about York
Go home and help Ben fixed his motorcycle
Help Jake change break pads
Find my way back to the Provo River Trail
Finish building my four square foot hand mirror so I can cut my hair
Take my annual trip to the mall and look for some new clothes
Take another look at Shelley's car (now that my hand is almost fully functional again)

Our world was once forget-me-nots, and now I'll wait another year. I need you here.

So my apartment was spotlighted during ward prayer for the third time. We use "the basket." As the first apartment to use it, we decided to make it good. Among other things, I made a mixed CD of:

Nerf Herder
Saves the Day
The Format
Brand New
The Get Up Kids
Bad Religion
Live
Guster
Bright Eyes
Toad the Wet Sprocket
K's Choice
Blink 182
Nickelcreek
Elliott Smith
The Shin's
Radiohead
Sarah McLachlan
R.E.M.

Listening to it I realized that I'm still pretty screwed up. So many of the songs are about that distant/unattainable lover/friend. I totally didn't do it on purpose. But it fits. I guess even my subconscious is crazy about her. She called me for the last time on Saturday, and now she's in York. Damn me.

Looks like I better turn the music up a little louder and hit the roads and weights a little harder. Yeah, drown out the depression. That's healthy.

You Vandal (the second one)

It turns out that when you don't maintain an instrument for 15 years, it doesn't work too well when you turn it on.

I got soul but I'm not a soldier (yet)

So we're off to the emergency room. Naturally, my sister's car is no longer operational. Some idiot diconnected the battery. Neither Shelley nor her roommate can drive a stick, so we all pile into my dinky truck. I drive one and a half handed to the ER, sign in and wait and wait...and wait. Initially, there are around 10 people in the waiting room, by 10:00 pm, the place it paced. Out of things to do, I call my dad. I needed to talk to him anyway. We talk about careers, he still doesn't seem to get that I really don't care about chemicals. Being a Chem Engineer hired to optomize petroleum cracking or some other chemical process has zero appeal to me. He still believes I should keep my degree general, and he's right. However, as a graduate student I've got to pick something. Anyway, by 9:45 or so, we finally get to see a nurse. Now I'm waiting on an ER cot. The nurse (a rather good looking one I might add, her name was Callie) comes in and tells me she's going to have to give me some shots in my wound and "it's going to hurt like crazy for a few minutes." She suggests I hold on to my sister's hand. I mention that if it really does hurt, Shelley's hand would probably break were I to hold it. I ask if I could just scream like a little girl instead. A reponse shouts out from the adjacent cot, "NO screaming. The is an ER, not the delivery room." She wasn't being hostile or anything. I imagine she'd had a rough day too and decided not to ask her what was wrong. Two and a half hours and fourteen stitches later, I'm out of there. Were it not for a slightly amusing story, the whole night would have been a waste.