Waking up is hard to do when no one loves you. Years pass by, that's something you have gotten used to.

Everyone is thinking about love right now. Rightfully so I suppose. Despite our greatest efforts to exist as nonconventional pseudo-intellectuals, I bet most of us are still hoping to find some simplicity and render the world a little more black and white. We know reality is mostly gray, and we’ve even come to terms with our own grayness. Yet, the hope, though unrealistic, remains that we will find the white.

I wonder if I would sleep better if my world were more cleanly cut. One perfect profession, one perfect school, one perfect girl, one perfect church, one perfect existence. Sounds nice, right?

Maybe.

Or maybe my “perfect” profession would get old, my “perfect” school would lose its prestige, my “perfect” girl would annoy me and run off with the mailman, my “perfect” church would turn God into dead principles, and my “perfect” existence would lose all passion.

I don’t know. "Perfect" is only a word I pretend to understand.

What do I want then? Opposition? Do conflict, controversy, and diversity truly make me happy? Right now, I think they do. Conflict helps me feel, controversy prevents me from falling asleep, and diversity….well diversity is exciting as always.

I can honestly say that I have no idea what the truth will be a year or ten years from now, but I’m not sure that it matters.

So in conclusion have I made my decisions clear With every passing moment of my life this year? Well not exactly so that's what I am doing here.

Yes, the gods continue to mock me.

Many times I’ve said I’d rather be disliked than ignored. Now, I am certain, they’re not ignoring me. They don’t seem to dislike me either, which is nice. What they do like is watching me fidget and struggle to win battles that most likely can’t be won. They know me too well. A more intelligent person would have long since given up, but not me, I still don't know the meaning of the word "surrender." Hopefully, I'll grow up someday.

sigh…..

I need the smell of summer, I need its noises in my ears

It’s official. The trip to Europe is cancelled. Yes, my disappointment exists on many levels, and I still cannot fully grasp them.

However, I accepted a job in Seattle working for the kind of company I’ve been hoping to find since I started this whole chemical engineering gig. The job should be worth the investment, so maybe, I won’t have to be sad forever.

Once again, reality reared its ugly head and reminded me that life still requires lists. No matter how hard you try to fit things together, that list remains linear with all items stacked sequentially. If you predict the future, you may succeed in shifting the odds in your favor, but those luxuries are typically reserved for fairytales. That said, I think a little spontaneity or unpredictability make life infinity more enjoyable.

A la longue, I was silly to believe people, places, and opportunities could hold truly equal significance in my life. What then, is a boy to do when he can’t have his cake and eat it too? Why, convince himself that he’d rather have pudding I guess.

I'm ringing all the warning bells Careful or you'll hurt yourself. Others lie lie lie, they adore you.

Yes, I wish my life were more interesting too.

In general, I think we Mormon’s are a pessimistic, self-degrading people bent on doomsday. We are the dust of the earthy; we are the unworthy servants. The world IS going to get more wicked, and we are powerless to stop it on anything more than a small scale. Though I understand the uses of this standpoint as I understand the audiences for which such discourses were made, I wonder if the effects have a negative side too.

I’m naturally a skeptical person. I have a hard time taking people at their words, yet I insist that they do just that for me. It’s not that I believe I’m better or have more integrity. I simply feel that my comments should be self-sustaining. If they weren’t true, why on earth would I make them.

Examples:

#1. Generic: “Wow, you look great today!”
Respsonse:”No, I don’t. I never look very good.”

#2. Me:”I think you’re beautiful” (I can count on a couple fingers the number of times I've made this comment)
Response: “Thank you.”
Thought –“I’m not beautiful, he must just be trying to make me feel good about myself.”
My thought: “I bet she doesn’t believe me. As well as she knows me, how could she possibly think such a thing?"

#3. Friend: “Mike, I like being around you.”
Me: “Thanks, I like being around you too.”
My thought: “This girl is great, but there’s no way she REALLY likes being around me. I’m sure she just thinks I need a pick-me-up.”

These mini conversations go on inside my head all the time. No matter what I say, I will expect you to believe me because, like I always say, I’m not a nice person. I don’t say things just because I think they will make you feel all warm and gushy inside. Granted, I want you to feel good about yourself, but I don't believe in compromising the truth to do so.

Flip it. If you say something nice to me, I WILL NOT believe you even if you swear on your dead pet's grave that it's the truth. For some reason, it’s unreasonable to think that I might indeed be someone a person likes to have around. I may eventually believe you, but I bet it will take you a good six months to beat it into my head.

People are funny that way. Everyone has double standards. No, I don’t think it’s King Benjamin’s fault. In fact, I think he was a great guy, and I would do better to follow more closely his counsel. Still, I wonder if I was ever taught not to believe people or if I’m jus plain stubborn that way. Maybe all Mormon's are stubborn. Maybe all humans are stubborn.

People are strange, when you're a stranger

Friday night, I get this funny text message. I thought it might be a friend playing a trick. I didn’t make much sense, and I was right.

Hey I think your hot wanna hang
I would, but I’m only attracted to men. It tends to make things kind of awkward.
Um im a man your in luck
Well, I’m glad my “hot” is the object of your thoughts. You know where to find me if you want to learn more about it.
Yes, yes I do
I dunno
That’s what I like about you, your impeccable orthographic prowess completely removes all ambiguity from your messages.
Um…what
Precisely
Wat…
U for real
You engrish no good. Me not understand what you want or who you is
What? Why is it hard to understand
You know, punctuation, homonyms, identification. The things that make messages legible.
Why are you talking bout that
Nothing apparently.Goodnight (Note: I thought she said. “What are you talking about?”)

The next day
Hey Sexy
No response from me

Later that night
So you and Keera huh
I hope you understand that I still don’t know who you are. I think you’re texting the wrong person.
Your names zac right. Ya I know you
No, my name’s Mike. I’m a 24 year old student. Please stop texting me.
No dont even play

Yes Mr. Morrison, I think you were on to something.

Treating me like I’m already gone.

And you’re right I’m afraid. A long time ago, I told you friendships were mostly about convenience; I wasn’t kidding. Sometimes, they survive when conveniences don’t, but it’s a rare luxury. I’m sorry.

I’ve decided I’m not very tolerant when people can’t handle their frustrations. I’m not trying to be mean, but I can't justify cutting them slack for something they should have learned to deal with during their teenage years.

Yes, it's true. I won't always be sympathetic to your problems. Remember when I told you I wasn't a nice person? I wasn't kidding about that either.

The start was something good, but some good things must end

Quote of the day:

“If you can’t even pick a good wife, how are you supposed to run the country?”

-This girl I sat next to in class this morning speaking in reference to John Kerry and why she supports Bush.

Blech

On and on reckless abandon, something's wrong, this is gonna shock them

The awkward, the weird, and the entertaining, and it’s only Tuesday.

The non-interaction between EFY and BSG in my apartment last night.
Random cuts I keep finding on my hands. I think I my subconscious must fight crime at night.
Avoiding friends not wanting to tell them I don’t have the emotional energy to deal with their presence.
Telling professors I still haven’t finished the pre-requisite for the class.
Coming home and seeing RCW with an ice-pack on his crotch.
Having classmates apologize for openly disagreeing with me in class.
The “Partial differential equations” game.
California Roommate’s blatant disregard for my pleas not to use a funny but totally inappropriate nickname to refer to BSG .
Me dancing with the girl in my class who is six feet tall.
And of course, taking an hour to formulate two sentences.

I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow, casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows

The weekend:

Was packed with life’s simple pleasures
Further complicated my life
Posed a few new questions.

Today’s topic is EFY roommate and BSG (beauty school girl)

Background: EFY is great. He is the embodiment of all things good about EFY and none of the stupid things. After butting heads for a month last year, we became good friends. BSG moved into the ward just before Christmas. She’s physically open, easy to hang out with, on the “hot” side of pretty, not too smart, and is a hard core flirter. (Normally*, I comply when a girl begs me to take my shirt off, but this case was a little too weird. Gotta maintain a little mystery.)

After finishing my shenanigans Saturday night, I come into the apartment; EFY and BSG are on the small couch together watching a movie with RC Wiley roommate and BSG’s roommates. He’s sitting up, and she’s laying on her back with her head on his thigh, legs hanging over the armrest. They seem comfortable enough, but there’s no gross spooning. 12:00 rolls around, and we give them the boot. The following evening they were back in our apartment. I was off doing my own thing, but I imagine similar things went on.

EFY’s cell phone rings. He sees that it’s BSG, so he passes the phone to RCW. RCW goes back into the bedroom. Not thinking anything of it, the rest return to our evening of watching stupid internet videos of fainting goats, jumping fish, and Trogdor.

20 minutes pass, and RCW emerges. “EFY, someone has a crush on you.”

BSG has decided she likes EFY. “He’s a really decent guy” and didn’t put the moves on her during the previous night. I guess that’s a rare occurrence. Quoting BSG, RCW says, “I gave him every chance I could to take advantage of me, and he didn’t.” Now, despite the boyfriend in AZ, she’s in love with EFY.

Yes, yes, yes, hundreds of things to mock and so little time, but here’s the point. Who puts on a blind fold, tromps into uncharted territory, and dangles their foot in the lake to determine whether or not the piranhas and snapping turtles are hungry?

Some call it sexuality. I call it emotional masochism.
*By “normal,” I mean I have yet to do so.

When everything is wrong, we move along

Random thoughts for today.

Graduate school websites lie. They say they like M.S. students. They say they pay them. They even say they admit them. NONE OF THESE CLAIMS ARE TRUE! The good news is a friendly advisor caught this little discrepancy before it was too late to backpedal.

"Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations.

This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship). To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense. :-) This sometimes results in a peculiar naivete', paralleling that of many Fs -- only instead of expecting inexhaustible affection and empathy from a romantic relationship, the INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness."

Is it possible to be overly warm blooded? After sitting around work for an hour I had to go to class in the WSC. I walked outside wearing only a T-shirt and jeans for 5 minutes, and by the time I got to my class, I was still overheating. What the heck is wrong with me? I went to the gym last night, so I'm a little sore. Could the circulation effects from yesterday's workout have continued into today?

I had a dream last night about biochem girl. I took her out a few times last winter, and in an extremely vague way, I learned she had no use for me. She went off to grad school and eloped with some dude. I stumbled across her email address a week ago and sent her a message. “Hi, I suddenly get what your email address references (it was Run Lola Run). Blah blah blah. I heard you got married; I hope life is good.” Last night a I had dream where she told me everything that was wrong with me. Though I can’t remember what she said, I remember being excited. “About time you told me what was going on! What took you so long? Slow down, I need to write this down.” I remember thinking that some of the things she said were way off while others seemed valid. I wanted her to elaborate but woke up right when it was getting good. What kind of person likes to be told what’s “wrong” with them?

Once again, I can only conclude that I’m a freak. (but hopefully the likeable kind)

Then ask me what it’s like to have myself so figured out. I wish I knew.

I got a letter from my missionary friend, Brooke, a few days ago. You know how getting home from a mission is like stepping out of a forward time warp? This letter was like a backward time warp. I haven’t heard from her since last April (this is my fault), so it’s been a while.

By the time I was 23, I thought I had myself figured out. The world made sense. I knew what kind of degree I wanted. I knew what kind of girl I wanted. I had some fantastic friends, and the future was set. Reading my letter from Brooke, I was suddenly a year younger and surprisingly different. At this age, I wouldn’t have thought a year made that much of a difference, yet I had the very distinct feeling that Brooke was writing to the wrong person.

I’m saddened that we’ve grown so far apart. I’m saddened that she can’t see the person I’ve become (or at least, the person I’m becoming). The two years I spent with/around her seemed decisive, finally she was seeing the real me. Now I look at those years like an author might look at the first book he wrote.

In June I suppose I’ll see her again. The us chapter has long since ended, and our dissimilarities will probably be even greater than they were before. I want to be excited to see an old friend again, but right now, I can only envision a stranger.

I don’t want to live this lie again; I know I’ll get right but I don’t know when.

Sometimes I get fed up with myself. All I want is to let things go and live for the moment. If the world blows up because of my actions, so what? There are worse things. If the train crashes and someone gets hurt, big deal. Thus is life. I didn't crash it on purpose.

But no, not yesterday, not today, maybe not ever. My brain keeps telling me it can predict the future, and I still can’t help but believe it.

You say that you’re starting to feel like you’re getting lost, well I do too.

Last winter, a roommate commented during a late night conversation, “Mike, for just one day, I wish I could sit inside your head and listen.” The previous summer, another friend had commented, “my goal for the summer is to figure out what makes Mike Morrill tick.” Though these kinds of remarks aren’t terribly frequent, they are an almost regular occurrence.

Now, I don’t think I’m any more interesting than anyone else, but such comments do make me think about my thoughts. I’ve heard people say that their inner being would frighten the public world. If you could “get inside my head,” I don’t think you’d be frightened; I think you’d be even more confused about me.

On days that I have nothing pressing for the morning, I’ll wake up around 8:30, but I won’t get out of bed. Often, I won’t do anything but lay still, thinking or playing out different scenarios in my head. These activities go on for hours if I let them. I wonder if someone like me would have a hard time with solitary confinement. If it were from Monday to Saturday afternoon, I think I’d do just fine.

P.S. Grad school applications are done, and the Sas incident has officially dissipated. The internet has sensitive ears, so interested parties will have to ask me in person.

Something in the way. hmmm mmm. Something in the way...

Somethin' ain’t stirring the kool-aid, man. I returned to Provo on Monday night feeling simultaneously relived and depressed as I always do when vacation ends. The nexted morning, instead of feeling excited, I felt anxious. The kind that makes you go half a day without eating. Normally, I need to eat every three hours or less, or I start thinking about devouring my shoes.

Here’s a few possiblitites:

-Grad School applications totally cleaned me out. I had to sign for a small loan from the Bank of Mom just to break even.
-My most relevant (and current) course work isn’t on my transcript. I’m afraid I won’t get in anywhere. (I don’t yet know if this fear is justified.)
-I think I weight over Christmas break.
-I still haven’t figured out what to do about sas.
-I haven’t started the online class I needed to have finished by yesterday.
-My personal essays aren’t finished either.

Most of these issues are in my immediate power to solve. They shouldn’t bother me, but the trouble is that I don’t know if they do or not. All I know is that something isn’t right; my appetite never lies.

Black. The night that ends at last.

I’m rushing through the apartment trying to think of everything I may possibly need at my parent’s place in Logan. After 40 minutes of running and packing in circles I have:

Toothbrush, face soap, razor
All my normal clothes, mostly dirty
My socket tools and Haynes manual
Christmas presents
Footwear for all occasions
Church attire
Foucault’s Pendulum and The Elegant Universe

What I wished I’d remembered:

By The Hand of Mormon (I’ve been meaning to get it back to my dad for a year)
Snowboarding Gloves (I don't even snowboard)
Wizard People, Dear Reader (I just forgot that one)
Soldering Iron (What the Hell is going on? How often do you need on of those while on vacation? If you’re me...always)
Thick socks for winter activites
Push-up bars
The quart of oil I’ve been meaning to use up for over a year.

Honestly, I can’t win.

So give me one good reason Why we need to be like them.

20 ft of twine: $1.25
Half a roll of electrical tape: $1.00
An old steel bar I found in the garage: nothing

The satisfaction from showing corporate America that I don’t need them or their lousy fitness equipment: Priceless

It’s 1:00a.m., and I find I’m doing what I always do this time of night. Sit in bed and listen to the background noise. There’s a strange sense of peace that comes when the world goes to bed. I’m the kind of person that can sit and entertain himself for hours from his thoughts alone. During vacation time, school is out, work is postponed, and friends are far away. What’s left to ponder?

Everything.

I’ve talked to a few old friends as of late; everyone back home seems to have gone crazy. My old acquaintances have been home from missions for a year or two, and they’re all having emotional breakdowns. Not the kind that gets you institutionalized, the long-term kind that tells you your life has no meaning. The kind that warps your future into a big black pit, and all you can do is run. And run you do, from everything and everyone.

Yeah, you’re damn right it’s frightening, and it’s happening to way too many people right now. I’ve been a spectator in the East Tennessee charade for several years, and it bothers me that I can’t observe what’s happening out there with my own eyes. I loath building my reality through second hand accounts, but it’s all I have for the time being.

I’m eternally grateful that my lot was not the lot of my friends. I like to think that people choose their own paths, but all these recent accounts are pointing elsewhere. Why have I been so lucky? Am I smarter? Do I have better genes? Or was I just lucky enough to have parents who loved each other, who loved their kids, and understood the responsibility that comes with raising them? That’s what scares me.

If it is mere luck, where’s the justice? Do I dare ask such questions?

I'm a Roooooe-man candle, my head is full of flames

Today was not the best day at church. The last speaker was a self-righteous, ignorant, condescending [insert offensive noun]. Right before the first speaker began her talk, her cell phone rang. She apologized and commented that she was already off to a rocky start. 45 minutes later, Mr. last speaker began. He pretended to pull out a cell phone and talk on it for a solid twenty seconds. “Hi. Not much. I’m just in sacrament meeting. Yeah, things to do. So how are things going?...” He then made a comment that people should show some respect/decency and turn off their phones. For the next 20 minutes, he said nothing of even superficial significance and ran ten minutes past closing time. He ended with “This just my opinion [he elaborately throws his tie over his shoulder], but I say that the only reason the world progressed technologically was because of the light of Christ that entered it during the time of the restoration. Yep, the dark ages lasted a long time, but the gospel ended them.”

Livid, I frantically began searching for stones, rotten fruit, bowling pins, anything to serve as a projectile. How could someone prove to be such an ignorant asshole in so little time?

I calmed down and started thinking (yes, always a dangerous thing for me). “What is the Christlike thing to do?” Walking up to the guy and chucking him out of the building with my boot firmly lodged in his rectum was a little too aggressive; he wasn’t exchanging money after all. But doing nothing like my roommate suggested was too passive for something I picture Christ doing.

Throughout Sunday school, I thought of my options. Bodily harm – too much vengeance. Verbal thrashing – too much wrath. Assertive”you suck” confrontation – more about me than him. Casual “Good talk man. I loved how you forgot you weren't the bishop and publicly criticized someone outside your stewardship. I also loved how you shared your ridiculous viewpoint on history and science, topics you obviously know nothing about.” – still too vindictive. A dead end every time. I couldn’t think of anything that would be more about helping the dude than me putting him in his place happy to take down church subculture one Crisco-haired jerk at a time.

Eventually, the class hit on a chunk of D&C 121. You rebuke and then show an increase of love afterwards. I had zero love for that guy and was incidentally forced to conclude that there was no possible way to confront him in a Christlike manner.

I should have clocked him with my shoe and been done with it.

Teenage rules: they’re f$%#ed and boring.

Word has it that you can dissolve a pound of potassium hydroxide in a gallon of ethanol. I say seeing is believing, and I’m not seeing anything. I've been cleaning old glassware all week. 6 months working as a BS chemist is way too much.

But you know what? It's 10:00pm, and I can turn up Blink 182’s Take of your pants and jacket as loud as I want. Suddenly, I don't care about anything, and life is good again.

Gonna chase my dreams and catch up to them

A few years ago, I had to make a decision. “Do I want to get good at fixing things or do I want to get good at fixing people? I can’t do both.” I weighed out the pros and cons of each side and decided I would prefer to learn to fix things.

I decided that things were better to deal with professionally because they don’t have emotions. I can forget about them and come back whenever I want. Things are more intellectually progressive (for me) than people, and they are usually more useful. I feared that a career dedicated to fixing people would consume me and not allow time for a family or anything else. A career dealing with things was much more likely to be a 9-5.

Since then, I’ve been slowly becoming a thing expert, confident that I made the right choice for me. From time to time, I look back and wonder if I should have done it differently. Last night was one of those nights. I can’t remember the last time I felt this vulnerable or even this afraid. Basically, my sister had a serious reaction to some strong antibiotics prescribed by her doctor for a urinary tract infection. After the infection cleared, she developed something else. After being uber sick for over a week, the doctor decided she needed a colonoscopy. Translation: he had no idea what the hell was going on. Things went from bad to worse, and I was helpless to do anything. Finally, I called a doctor/friend and in 60 seconds knew the problem and necessary medication with 95% assurance. All it took was that tiny piece of information, but it was a piece I didn’t have and couldn’t logically deduce on my own.

So right now I can say that I do regret the decision to take the direction I have. I know there will be more days like this. Yet l also know that on most days, I’m grateful I didn’t take that direction. I think I’ll always be torn like this as I will always have a problem with being vulnerable. I need to accept the fact that no one is completely impervious. Everyone has weaknesses, and sadly, so do I.

We were perfect when we started I've been wondering where we've gone.

I just finished reading the Davinci Code. It’s definitely a fluff book but still enjoyable. I don’t know if you call it fiction or adventure or maybe fictenture. Whatever the case, the book held my attention over the weekend which is rare. It wasn’t Harry Potter captivating, and by then end, I started speed reading to keep it moving. Still, I took it out 150 pages at time.

Several thoughts. Brown says in the beginning of the book that the secrets and societies are all “real.” I think I’m going to learn a little more about them. I’d imagine that most of the things he said about Davinci and the Holy Grail were well researched. Then again, outside the Masons, Dead Sea Scrolls, Nag Hammadi texts, and Gospel of Phillip, I have to take his word for it.

AJ mentioned she had trouble with things that “attacked the church.” I can’t say I saw that. The only real conflict I did see was an emphasis on the non-divinity of Jesus Christ. Brown more or less says that Christ was like Mohammad, a great teacher whose history grew to legend status over hundreds of years only to be further twisted by politicians seeking to control the masses.

*************************************SPOILER*****************************************
Brown’s comments about Mary Magdalene (or the things he says Davinci and the Priory say) don’t seem too far fetched. So Christ was married? Duh. He had a kid? Well, I don’t know, but it makes sense. His family was forever hidden after his crucifixion then forever protected by a secret society dedicated to protect his bloodline and the secrets of the Grail? Secrets which…aren’t that important because everyone who wants to know the true story of Christ already has it. That does sound like fiction, but I don’t find it offensive.

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