Deranged Ramblings

Yesterday was Memorial Day, and I hope we all took a moment to remember the many people who have died in war. We should never forget that millions of human beings have lost their lives in combat. Let us honor their memory by working toward a world where such violence no longer exists. On a lighter subject, I wish to discuss briefly a battle being waged here, at my very own house. This is a war of brains and brawn which already has produced many casualties. On one side, we have my control freak roommate whose determination knows no bounds. On the other, an army of highly-trained military ants who have set up base in the cracks in the cement in our garage. I’m sorry to say that my roommate struck the first blow in this conflict. He noticed the presence of the ant forces in our territory some time last week and declared war immediately. A can of Raid was deployed over the enemy base, destroying targets with deadly precision. My roommate declared himself the victor and we

The laws of the universe were defied yesterday: somebody actually called me for a job interview. I was beginning to think there was some sort of huge conspiracy amongst all businesses in the Provo/Orem area to specifically bar me from any kind of employment. Even McDonalds turned its nose up at me (ok, I didn’t really apply at McDonalds, but don’t think I wasn’t starting to consider it). Anyway, I was all in a flutter because the interview was for a nice position in the Q&A department of a large company which happens to have a factory in the area, paying far more than what I had to expected to get just out of college with an English degree. With my savings slowly yet inexorably dwindling, I received the call somewhat like a choking man receives the Heimlich maneuver: with great relief and gratitude. I went dressed to the nines. My roommate has a high profile fancy pants job so he has lots of nice formal clothes he let me borrow. I wore his expensive suit, and a nice dark blue

I was once told that I have a tendency to analyze everything about myself; that I spend a great deal of time and energy trying to understand what I do and why I do it. I think that’s true, not only because the source of the comment was highly trustworthy (my former therapist) but because its something I have noticed about myself and have, ironically, tried to analyze. In that spirit, I feel like blogging about a peculiar aspect of my personality that, due to some recent trivial events in my life, has been on my mind lately. I have this strange quirk which often exhibits itself. It is by no means unique, I’m sure, and at first doesn’t sound much like a bad thing, but it causes more problems than you might think. What I’m talking about is this: I often feel compelled to do what other people want me to, or be what other people want me to be, even when it goes against my personal desires. After all, what they want is clearly more important than what I want. And I'm so worried about hu

Last night I went to a gym for the first time, and let me tell you, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had first supposed. I used to think gyms were a realm exclusive to all negative aspects of masculinity with which I had come to distance myself: a zone of flowing testosterone characterized by aggression, competition, arrogance, and stupidity. I imagined it a modern day pagan temple, where people offered up themselves as sacrifices to their own bodies, which have become their own personal idols. I had imagined our society was sickly infatuated with self-image and personal beauty. Well, it turns out that’s all true, but there is more to it than I had previously imagined. For one thing, recent studies have showing the high level of obesity among Americans started to shake me up. It was easy to imagine, as a young skinny adolescent, that I’d always be young, skinny, and healthy without any effort on my part. I see now that this is not the case, and if I don’t do something about it

Call me crazy, but I’ve often thought about what it would be like to be completely cut off from the rest of the world. I have a recurring day dream where I’m shipwrecked on a desert island, alone or with one other person, and forced to survive for months before I’m finally rescued. It’s a silly fantasy, and in real life I’d probably starve or die from heatstroke. But the daydream keeps coming back, so the idea must have a certain appeal. I read a short story once (I can’t remember who wrote it) about a young man who bets a rival that he can stay cooped up in a small building with no outside contact for an entire year. Food is delivered to him through a small hole, and he is granted a piano and all the books he desires to read. I remember thinking that this sounded like a pretty good deal. As long as I had those things, and maybe some video games or something, a year would be a piece of cake, I thought. In the story the man went crazy and broke out just days before the year was up,

For those of you still living in your proverbial cave, last night was the grand opening of the final Star Wars film, and yours truly was there with baited breath along with a whole host of strange creatures who had dared to slink out into the real world in order to see George Lucas’ latest concoction. Yes, I know that his last two attempts had some problems, to say the least. Yes, I know that the franchise has turned into a spectacle-driven load of corporate drivel meant to squeeze money from the very blood of the masses. But there I was, giddy with anticipation while I waited an hour and half for the thing to start. For one brief fraction of a second, I actually considered wearing the Jedi costume I have in storage somewhere (to my everlasting shame – because not only did I considered wearing it but I also actually own one (don't tell anybody)). What gets me so worked up? Star Wars is my childhood. For me, there has never been a time when there wasn’t Star Wars, and I was

A clever little slice of satire for your intellectual digestion.  

I recently moved into a house. This is quite a refreshing change from the cramped college housing I've grown used to over the last two and half years or so. The reason such a move is now possible is because, somehow, I have graduated and can live wherever I want. I began the work of settling in, and soon started having a few friends come over and see my new place. Showing people around your new house or apartment has always seemed a bit silly to me. You lead them from room to room as if you were a tour guide at an English castle, throwing in bits of guide-like commentary from time to time. "This is the kitchen," you announce, as if you might have placed the fridge in the bedroom. Your friends nod and say something polite and complimentary. In their position, I never know what to say. "Well, the bathroom certainly appears functional," I'll say, forgetting that this isn't really the point of the exercise. I have the same problem when it comes time to congr