Identity Crisis

So I think a lot of people define me by my red hair.  Why do I think this?  

It all started last semester...  (flashback)

Because of my schedule, I had many a morning that I hadn’t showered by the time I needed to head up to campus.  For a large chunk of the semester, my hair was large and chunky.  And long.  This caused for some wild manes when I didn’t get the chance to style it.  Solution?  I tamed them.  With hats!  Or beanies and a hood. 

In my many travails across campus, there have been a plethora of occasions in which I would hattedly walk right by people I knew quite well, make eye contact with them, and they would not realize that it was me.  Other days when I would see them, we would stop and have riveting conversations.  Sparks would fly.  Fireworks would work fires everywhere.  And what was the only difference between those times and these?  Visible hairiness.  I have also noticed that when I wear a normal hat with no hood, the recognition rate is about half-n-half.  Difference?  About half.  And the peeping forth of tufts of amber.

Now, I love my red hair.  I am quite proud of it.  There are few who likely possess my fondness of a red headdress.  But there’s more to me than just bodily features.  I’d appreciate it if you’d recognize that.

...but while you work on it, you’re welcome to gaze lovingly upon my flowing red locks.  Or forever.

Purgolfactory

I love springtime.  It is always at this point in the year where life takes on a new shape and new meaning.  Everything seems fresh, and rightfully so—many things are.  But there are a few things about spring that don’t seem fresh.  And for some reason I seem to smell them every time I walk across campus.  Especially here:

Behold!  Blossoming trees line the banks of this lovely sidewalk, creating an aesthetic masterpiece! But is it a beautiful spring visage or olfactory purgatory?  Or purgolfactory?

For some reason, the blossoms on these trees smell like something I can’t begin to describe that smells musty gross.  We will refer to them henceforth as ‘butt flowers.’  For some other reason, someone decided that these would be the ideal trees to plant all over the entirety of Provo, including the otherwise lovely campus of one Brigham Young University.  Normally, the sweet smell of spring blossoms enhances the springtime feeling of renewal.  Here, it only enhances the gag reflex.

In one of my classes we were asked which sense we would live without were we ever to be placed in a situation where we would lose one.  Smell.  Every time.  Especially with those trees.  The effect is even more overwhelming when combined with other potentially fatal scents.  Like man cologne.  The other day I was walking down this makeshift road to hell and noticed that I had a fellow traveler.  I was just on my way to class, but I quickly became aware as to why he was on the road to hell.  The dude smelled as powerful as an Abercrombie & Fitch store all by his lonesome.  The combination of his man odor with the butt flowers awoke within me the pains of a damned soul. Purgolfactory.
 

The BYU grounds crew does such a good job with most everything else.  What do you think it would take to get them to replace... oh... every tree on campus?  


But would they even stand a chance against the mighty forces of purgolfactory?

Bilk Milk

For my health psychology class, we had to do a group project on something relating to the subject.  After having met with group members, we decided to try going a couple of weeks without any dairy products to see what the effect would be on our bodies and energy level.  I was under the impression that it wouldn’t be too bad.  Apart from a few Michael Bolton moments, I didn’t see it presenting a huge deviation from my normal lifestyle.

Never before have I been so wrong.


Every day (almost literally) of the project, I was presented with the opportunity to partake of something delicious but was denied therefrom.  The hard part wasn't really not eating stuff--I've starved before.  Instead it was the feeling of dejection and denial that came with my refusal of these torturously omnipresent comestibles.  Never before have I been offered so many cookies, invited to so many fondue parties, called upon for so many milk squirt gun fights, supplicated for so much pudding wrestling, and challenged to so many gallon challenges.  It's like there was some sort of milk god exercising some cruel divine punishment for my self-imposed lactoabstinance.

But at the same time, I think it was kind of refreshing—like a cold glass of milk.  I gained a few things from the endeavor:  First off, it helped me to realize that I need to develop a lot more self-discipline, mostly because I found that I’m prone to throw a tantrum/complain incessantly every time I have to show some.  Second, it strengthened my belief in this quote/concept that I love:

“Right decisions are easiest to make when we make them well in advance, having ultimate objectives in mind; this saves a lot of anguish at the fork, when we’re tired and sorely tempted.”

Though its application is much more valuable in real life situations and with real life decisions, it also applies to anti-milk projects.  Third:  Weight.  But instead of being something I gained, in this case it was something I lost.  10 pounds from the start of the project, to be exact.  Hot dang.  Fourth, this shirt:
 

Well it’s not a guarantee yet, but I have made it known to my groupees that I want that we should wear these when we present and even photoshopped it to show them I am serious.


Also whose idea was it to start drinking/making things with cow’s milk anyway?  How did the conversation go there?

• Dude so I know I’m a grown man and everything, but I miss milk. 
• Yeah man I know what you mean... 
• Hey I know it’s not socially acceptable to drink human milk past a certain age, but what do you think about getting some milk from somewhere else?  
• Like maybe some sort of unsavory beast? 
• Well there are some cows over that way.  They’re pretty unsavory. 
• Oh you mean the ones over there eating out of that pile of garbage? 
• Well yeah those or the ones over there walking around in their own poop.  
• Oh yeah I saw those ones, too.    
• Oh okay yeah.  Well yeah I think that’d be okay.
• Sweet let’s do it.  
• Say, you think other people would like this, too?  
• Oh yeah definitely.  Who wouldn’t? 

Got milk?

Kid*napping

The other day I was on my way to work when I noticed I was approaching a friend of mine.  As we drew nigh unto collision, he began to act as though he was going to brutally attack me.  To add to the misfortune of this happenstance, another friend of mine (who, mind you, did not know the first) walked out from behind him and began to fall upon me as well.  In panic, I cowered to the ground.  Once they realized that I was afraid of the both of them, they in-cahooted and proceeded to beat me up.

It was in this moment that I realized that I wouldn’t be good at getting kidnapped.  Or avoiding it, rather, because I would be really good at being intimidated and forced to go somewhere.  Have you seen those movies where one of the protagonists is just walking along in a semi busy area and suddenly they’re surrounded by a bunch of sketchy fellas?  Then by the time they realize what’s happening, they’ve already been seized by said sketchy fellas and are subsequently forced into a waiting vehicle to be taken away?  Well that’s what the aforementioned situation reminded me of.  Except I didn't fight or kick or scream.  At all.  I think I might've whimpered a bit.  So hopefully I’ll never be important enough to merit being kidnapped because it would probably be pretty easy.  Just come at me and when I realize you’re ganging up on me, I’ll crumple up into a conveniently-sized package and you can probably heft me fairly easily into a waiting vehicle nearby.  I’ve even lost a few pounds recently.  You’re welcome.

PS:  Kidnapping is kind of an unfortunate word, both because of what it describes and because of its fairly easy misconstrual.  This stems from an unfavorable linguistic morphology.  Many a false accusation and serious incident could be avoided with a change in word formation (asterisks have been placed to denote ambiguity in spelling and, thereby, meaning):

• “Oh no!  A kid*napping!”  Is someone being stolen or is it simply a vocal hypnophobe?

• “I’ve been kid*napped!”  It could be easy to see how someone might be crying out for help when really, it's equally likely that there's just a child catching some winks on the proclaimer.

• “Kid*napping?  I love those!”  It is pretty cute.  Unless it’s a kidnapping.

• “Hey did you hear about the latest kid*napping?”  Are they referring to a recent abduction? A child that likes to sleep in? Perhaps the least punctual of a group of children shutting his/her eyes?

Reform is in order.

Verde que te quiero verde

Every year as St. Patrick’s Day approaches, I get excited.  Why, you ask?  I will answer your ask: Because I love the color green. Green is an overtly and aesthetically pleasing masterpiece. Green is associated with such concepts as life, renewal, nature, fertility, hope, and joy. It is sacred in some cultures. It has even been said that green is sexy-wexy. Allow me to use a well-known jingle to make a point, albeit with a few modifications: "Everything is better with [green] ... on it." 

However, every year I am saddened as many people fall by the wayside and fail to recognize and/or take advantage of this opportunity to renew and be fertile. I'm always disheartened and disappointed (both!) at how many people don't wear green on St. Patrick's Day. In an ideal world, a mass of green bodies would greet me in celebration of St. P's Diddy as I braved the ascent to campus. Actually, I'm always disheartened and disappointed (still both!) at how many people don't wear green, no matter the day or occasion. I want those green bodies all the time. I don't know what it is exactly, but people look better when they wear green. Really. I find a person more attractive if they are wearing the color green. There's just something about it that looks great, and it rubs off on the body it's rubbing against. If you know what I'm sayin.  

In fact, it reminds me of a poem I once read for a Spanish Literature class entitled "Verde que te quiero verde" by Federico García Lorca. As far as the meaning goes, I only know that green is the color of passion and romance in Spain ;) and that it's depressing ;( But I wholeheartedly agree with the direct translation of the title, which is "Green—I want you green."  And that is the moral of our story for today.  

I want you (to wear) green.

Integration

Lately I have been doing some thinking.  A lot of it has revolved around thoughts that I’ve had.  Thoughts about people.  And togetherness.  And with the proximity of Valentine’s Day, I thought that now would be an appropriate time to explore them a little further.

I must confess that I lied a little bit in my last post.  Despite my claim, I do possess some relationships.  Most of them are good, and I have a handful that I value greatly.  These are not romantic relationships, but simply relations I hold with people I hold in high esteem.  But no matter the disposition of the relationship, most maintain a similar makeup, as well as similar risks and benefits.

Aristotle described humans as “the social animal.”  There’s much about this brief description that rings true.  I am currently taking a Social Psychology class and it is extremely interesting to me to learn about human interaction and the role it plays in our lives, our moods, and our decisions.  I am also taking a Health Psychology class and it’s equally interesting to see how relationships affect our overall health.  Most in the field of health care today accept a biopsychosocial model of health, which claims that our well-being is not only a factor of our biological and psychological functioning, but also the quality of our social interactions with others.  Psychologists generally describe this integrative part of our nature as an inherent need to belong—to interact with others and form meaningful, enduring relationships.

But what is it exactly that makes us this way?  It seems clear that a large motivator for our relational fervor lies in the necessary propagation of the human species.  But even when putting that to the side, there is something that runs much deeper in human relationships—a fact to which anyone who has experienced any kind of meaningful affinity with another can readily attest.  This is manifest in even the most basic of interactions:  How many have had the experience where you’ve been having a bad day and a smile, kind word, text, phone call, or act of kindness has completely changed your outlook, mood, or behavior?  Why is that?  How do these simple interactions have power to instantly change our temperament?  And if acts as simple as these can change our attitude, what can be the influence of more constant and intimate interactions?

I guess the main reason that I wanted to write about this is that my own experiences with the subject have been on the forefront of my consciousness as of late.  That’s a pointlessly complicated way of repeating that I’ve been thinking a lot about it.  Sometimes you meet people that change your life.  Other times, it’s more like a downright takeover.  The people that we choose to spend our time with affect us.  A lot.  Often, their thoughts, opinions, ideals and characteristics become our own through adoption.  This process can take effect without us even really being aware; it can also be in form an abnegation, both conscientious and willing.  Either way, I have had the privilege of seeing it work very effectively, both personally and externally, both positively and negatively.  For me, (thankfully) it has mostly been positive.  The relationships I have formed with the people who have influenced me the most have essentially resulted in me learning the things I hold most dear.  In a way, these people really did take over my life in the sense that their influence and the ideals they have shared with me (intentionally or not) are ever helping me to see and achieve the kind of life that I want to live.  Some people just make you want to be better and make you feel like you can be; they bring out the best in you, even though you can’t necessarily explain why.  Their simple presence in your life invites clarity, faculty, dedication, and simplicity that were previously lacking.  Sometimes we’re blessed to find people that fit us inexplicably well—those that fill in the little cracks in our person and are able to interact with us in a manner that is most meaningful and/or similar to our own, or to that which we need.  And even if they don’t end up being there forever, the impact they had often will be.  

In the long run, relationships are the most important things we will ever have.  There is something that is more fulfilling and meaningful about the relationships we develop than any other success or activity we can encounter—likely because the results of these efforts are important in a way that runs deeper than other successes.  When you influence a life for the better, you literally change someone’s world.  There isn’t really much that can compare with that, especially for them.  And I can attest to that personally.  

In this season of lovey doveys, and before my fine-fettled Irish kindred overtake the holiday spotlight, I simply wanted to give my personal seal of approval to uplifting relationships.  They are off the proverbial chain.  I also would like to encourage the seeking out of, the finding of ourselves in, the propagation of, and the expression of gratitude for uplifting relationships.  I think as we prepare and seek for them, we find them, and they end up being something beautiful.  Because chances are, (and as cheesy as it sounds) when you find those great fits, in some way and for some reason, they will need you just as much as you need them.  And once you’ve found something of the like, do what you have to to keep it.  Do a lil sumthin sumthin to thank people who have inspired you.  These are not common nor trivial things to have.  If you don’t appreciate it while you have it, you’ll learn to when it’s gone.  All in all, relationships are an integral part of our human experience—an experience that is optimized as we learn to integrate our own with the ones of those around us. 

Dispositions

As good ole Saint Valentine’s Day approaches, a lot of hoopla and ballyhoo are directed towards emotion, sentiment, and relationships.  Since I don’t really possess any of those things, this Valentine season I have been focusing on something that I’m more capable of: Basic dispositions. I've got a pulse, too. So I engaged my extensive list of humanoid abilities and created a list of things that I like and don't like.

Things I like:

• Sunsets
• Finding candies
• Waving at people while not wearing pants and them having no awareness of my condition
• When the sun starts fighting through the clouds after it has been cloudy all day
• (creating) Neologisms
• Meaningful conversations
• Free food
• Discovery/Understanding
• Doing better at something than you thought you would
• The feeling you get after you’ve been busy for a while, you accomplish everything you need to, and you have nothing pressing to do
• Good friends
• Baseball
• Reading about other people doing good things
• Being able to type entire words using letters that are on one half of the keyboard, and therefore only needing one hand to do so
• Finding out there is a curve on a test

Things I don't like:

• When people steal my sweet moves in Words with Friends
• Going into a building when it’s light outside and having it be dark when I come back out
• Ignorance touted as fact
• When you’re crossing the crosswalk and a car is waiting for you so they can turn and they inch closer with every step you take
• Having to get back up after you’ve gotten settled in bed or in a chair 
• Shoe wedgies