Random Thoughts

A couple things I thought about at the bus stop this afternoon:

1. I remembered hearing in the news a few years ago that Kobe Bryant's wife gave him permission to sleep with another woman once a year. I also read in Jerry Lewis' memoirs that his wife was fine with him sleeping around as long as he didn't embarrass her. As I see it, that sort of thing is degrading to everybody involved. The wife is basically saying that she doesn't deserve or expect a man who respects and values her and is devoted to her. She is also saying that she thinks her husband is not capable of controlling himself. And the other women... well, it's just degrading.

2. I've heard that when a bone heals after you break it, that is the strongest part of the bone. Also, when you are weight training, you tear apart the muscles and then they regrow stronger than before. I also remembered that in Must Love Dogs (Which I do not recommend seeing. It's been a while since I watched it, but I remember getting the impression that the amount of crassness outweighed its value.) John Cusack's character has this theory that a broken heart grows back with a greater ability to love. And then I thought of Ether 12:27- And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

So I wondered, once again, what it is that the last several months have been trying to teach me and whether and how I have grown. I did contribute a lot to my troubles, but it was a very rough time for me and I think something got broken for a while. So I think that qualifies me to grow back stronger. After all, when you tear down your muscles during weight training, it is something you do to yourself.

Bus Route 850

When I take bus 850, I usually miss my stop. I've gotten off in the right place maybe 3 or 4 times. And I've gotten off in the wrong place at least two or three times as often. I don't know why- I've never had this problem on any other routes.

It is a real problem when I'm headed for work. But when I'm going home, it isn't a big deal. I just make sure I know where I am and what direction I'm going when I do get off the bus and it's pretty easy to find my way home. And it's actually helped me in getting to know Provo better. I don't like to wander far from home when I'm by myself. But if I have a purpose, I don't mind it. So my troubles with route 850 have caused me to walk around where I've never been before. And if it keeps up, I should get a decent mental map of that area of town.

But it is a really good thing that I don't live in some other area where the streets have names instead of numbers and aren't laid out in a grid.

Overcomplimentary?

Sometimes I don't trust compliments.

Two examples from yesterday- I cooked some chicken for a big potluck dinner involving our entire floor, and I gave a talk in church. And a lot of people complimented me on my talk and on my chicken. And almost every time I wondered if they really meant it or were just trying to be nice or polite or something.

People said my talk was good. But I kept thinking, "But I think I got a bit rushed, and I think I repeated myself, and I lost my place and might have skipped over something. And maybe they are just saying that to be nice and reassure me because they could tell that I was nervous."

And the piece of chicken I took seemed a bit dry and overcooked.

So I wonder.

The Experiment Ends

I have now started the process of giving out my blog address. Over the course of my little experiment, from October 2007 through April 2009, five people who were not me have visited this blog.

Living Language

When Mom was pregnant, she would get piles of materials- developing baby magazines, information on baby formula, baby name booklets, and so forth. I have no idea what happened to most of that stuff, but the name booklets stuck around forever. And I frequently pored over them, seeing what the names of all my friends and family meant. Then when I was a young teenager, or maybe just 11 or 12, I picked up one of my parents' gospel books- Gospel Symbolism by Joseph Fielding McConkie. One chapter is titled Names: A Story Within the Story. I think reading that chapter first introduced to me the idea that names actually come from words. For some reason I had never realized that's where the name meanings came from.

From these experiences sprouted two significant interests of mine- name meanings, origins, and trends and general etymology. Mostly English, although other languages can be interesting, too.

I see two general trends with regard to the rules of English. On the one side is the view that there are strict English rules, and we should follow them. The other side sees language as organic and developing. The rules are defined by usage, not the other way around. I tend to fall in line with the second side. Language is definitely not static. New words form. Old words become archaic. Some words change meaning. It all changes depending on the needs of the people, which change over time. And the purpose of language is to communicate. If the old rules of our language make communication more difficult or less beautiful, then they need to change. And if the general population starts to use a word in a different way, let them. It is filling a need. Just so long as when they use it, their meaning is clear. It's happened before. It will happen again. And I think it is a beautiful thing, because that means our language is still living.

Confession

I think it would be fun to make my own religion.

Sometimes it is fun to misinterpret things in completely ridiculous ways. The more ridiculous, the better. And I like to play with ideas. So I actually have come up with a couple doctrines that I would like to work into my theology.

First, I have heard the idea that everybody living currently has some number of molecules in their body that were previously part of the body of any given historical figure. So I imagine in the resurrection, with everyone's bodies restored to perfection, some of the molecules being shared. So that we somehow were sharing bodies. I haven't quite got this one worked through, but it could have some interesting applications with the trinity and the idea of being one with Christ.

I also like the idea that the wicked will burn at the end of the world because of global warming, and that the righteous will be saved because of some mutation we all undergo.

Now I just need to work the two together, and my religion will be off to an interesting start. Although I probably won't. Because I don't think that starting a false religion and recruiting people to it really goes very well with "every member a missionary" and bringing souls to Christ. And it just might harm my chances for exaltation.

Pretend This Title Is Clever And Relevant

I have been pretty frustrated with myself lately.

For a long time, this blog served well as an outlet for me. I could express myself here and send my thoughts out into cyberspace, not really caring if anybody ever read them. But for a while now, I've been wanting to share more. I want to talk to an actual person who is really listening and trying to understand. But I can't quite do it. There have been so many times when I told myself, "Go release some of the pressure that is building up in that head of yours while building stronger connections with these people you like and care about." And then when I am in a position to start talking, I just can't make myself open my mouth. The more I want to, the less I am able to.

Adding to the trouble, somewhere it got into my head that if someone is interested in my thoughts or opinions or activities, they will ask about it. So I don't say much about them because I don't want to bore some uninterested person. But I figure if someone else wants me to know about their thoughts or opinions or activities, they will tell me without me needing to ask. I know that if I make these assumptions, chances are I will have very little actual communication, but there you are.

I've been doing more writing than usual in an effort to release some of the stuff up in my head pressing to come out. I've written down a lot of various things I think and sort of want to say, but never actually do. And I've been posting more on this blog, and I feel like these posts have been longer and not as tightly structured as my earlier ones. I'm not sure how that relates, but I thought I'd throw it in there.

Also, very recently, my desire for anonymity has completely evaporated. On March 22, I couldn't see a point when I'd want to be open about my identity on here. I had up until that point carefully limited potentially identifying information, even avoiding mentioning names of anybody I knew. Then, on April 4, I used my friend Beth's name in a post without thinking about it. When I realized, I thought about editing to change the post, but decided I really didn't care. And this Wednesday, I used my sisters' real names. I did that one on purpose. And then I decided to use my actual name to sign blog posts. Now, I don't care at all about revealing my identity.

This is Marissa J. Howes. And I really want to be open now. But I think I'll need a little help.

The Jehovah's Witnesses came by again today. As I've done before, I answered honestly when asked if I read the Bible (yes, but not as much as I should), listened to the brief Bible message (we need to be born again), and took the offered materials.

Then, a little later, I got to thinking. The Jehovah's Witnesses don't have a particularly grim view of what happens to unbelievers. They just cease to exist at death. No burning for eternity. No rebirth in a less desirable life form.

We also have a less than grim picture of the afterlife for those who do not believe as we do. Actually, it's a pretty cheerful picture. Life forever in a place more beautiful than we could imagine. I'm going to have to look up the quote about that. The only downside is the knowledge that they could have done better.

So why is it that the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons are the faiths with a vigorous missionary effort, expecting all members to act as missionaries? Yes, I know that other Christian religions have missionary programs. But they seem to focus on material relief for poor nations. We do that, too, but we also send proselyting missionaries everywhere. And the gospel message is a bigger service than the food and clothes and medicine and such. Yes, all that is important. But the more eternally significant bit is the gospel. I'm sure the other missionary efforts have some preaching involved, but you don't hear about that as much. At least, I don't. Although I guess I did hear a lot about that having gone on in the past- think of the missionaries who came out west during America's early days. Or African missionaries like they talk about in Things Fall Apart.

And you would think that someone who thinks that anybody who does not believe as they do will suffer for eternity would put a lot of effort into getting everybody saved. That is, if they really care about their fellow man. But maybe I am overestimating their belief in Hell. After all, I have seen statistics that many don't even really believe in Satan or the truthfulness of the Bible.

Great Literature

I was just at my sister's blog and reread some stories we wrote together with our other sisters last summer. The rules were you write one sentence, fold the paper over so only your sentence is showing, and pass to the next person. The story ends when you get to the bottom of the page. I will repost the stories here, so you can see what great works of literature the world will get to see if I ever actually get published.

On Lydia's blog, she bolded the lines she wrote. I will follow her example and bold my lines.


One day, a little girl found a unicorn in her tree house. She was very excited, for she had always dreamed of meeting one of those magical creatures. Unfortunately, it was not as magical as she had dreamed the meeting would be. She had always imagined unicorns and rainbows when she met him, but was very disappointed when the unicorns were unaccompanied by rainbows. :[ But when the unicorn offered her a ride she got over the absence of rainbows.

"Yea!" she cried, for she had never imagined she would get to ride one! Unfortunately she fell off and fell into a coma. Sobbing, he brought her comatose body to Bart the out of body guy and asked him to communicate with her. Bart went out of body to communicate with her and discovered that she sometimes talked to Jill, or whatever the coma girl Neal's girlfriend's name was. He realized that he could ask her what the coma-girl's name was.
Surprised to be asked such a question, the nurse grabbed the wrong file and incorrectly informed him that her name was John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. "AAAAAAAAAA" screamed John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, and she wept and wailed and gnashed her teeth.
Bart was out-of-bodying and happened to think of her, turned up, then turned visible and asked her what was going on, how could he help her, and would she like some fries with that?

"Why, of course," she said happily, "but make sure to include fry sauce!" Being from California, he did not know what fry sauce was and gave her a confused look, but she thought it was a dirty look.

"I hate you Bart, you give me dirty looks! And you hate fry sauce!" screamed John Jacob Jingleheimer Schimdt and she threw a bedpan at him.
"Well, at least I don't give you dirty bedpans," Bart said, and left without helping him, irritated at the lack of gratitude and respect.

The person Bart was talking to went out and talked to him, saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you would get so mad."

Notes: There were a couple interesting coincidences here. At least, we found them interesting. First, Jeanette had no idea that the story was about a unicorn, but brought one in anyway. And Lydia had no idea that we were talking about Bart (a character from a book we have at home) when she mentioned him being from California- but that really is where Bart is from.

Rudy, a one-eyed-one-horned-flying-purple-people-eater, decided to go grocery shopping one raining Tuesday evening. Sadly, it was quite the ordeal to get ready because one-eyed-one-horned-flying-purple-people-eaters are allergic to water; it makes them melt. In order to prevent his melting, they built a pavilion with walkways stretching everywhere he might need to walk, and instructed him to keep an umbrella with him at all times. However, he had somehow forgotten what an umbrella was. To save face, he pretended to know what it was, which only led to embarrassment. His face flushed a dark shade of violet, and he ran away sobbing, wishing he knew what it was. A girl purple people eater saw him, admired the deep shade of violet he now had, and tried to cheer him up by asking him on a date.

"Well," he said slowly, "I do like to be with people so I will go on a date."
"Alas, I am a one-eyed-one-horned-flying-purple-people-eater and am prone to get hungry and eat you since my grocery shopping has been interrupted- by you," he continued.

So Rudy took a chomp out of their leg, but didn't realize there was an eating people alarm that dumped a bucket of water on him! He started to melt into a pool of liquid sugar, like honey or maple syrup. But actually it was like the treacle in Hagrid's treacle tart. They spit it out, and starving nearly to delirium, Rudy lunged at her. She ran away and threw her shoe at him because it was purple and she though it matched his skin tone. It didn't match, so he threw it back in her general direction and went to the shoe store to find some that would. He found the perfect shoes, then decided to get perfect socks, too. Unfortunately, his idea of perfect was disastrously different than hers. So it wasn't perfect and she ate him.

Notes: It is a slight miracle that this story ended up sticking with the character of Rudy the purple-people-eater the whole time. There were times when somebody wrote not knowing who they were talking about, and then in the next sentence someone either picked up on an unintentional cue that it was a purple-people-eater or else randomly threw him in there.

Once upon a time there was a couple having an intimate moment. They enjoyed the moment so much that they decided to get married. Soon they went home and the female went to the mall to buy a dress. The dress she bought was bright pink with orange polka-spots; she thought it was ravishing, but in reality it was horrendous. He was planning on wearing his daddy's tuxedo which was a little big, with the cuffs hanging around his ankles, with a ravishing/horrendous tie to match her dress. Unfortunately, he had donated that tux to DI last year. He sighed and went to the mall, where he saw the girl. Suddenly, he realized he was madly in love with her. Excitedly, he blurted it out, thus starting the intimate moment. The woman was displeased with his interruption.

"Well," he said, "I needed to get a new set of clothing."

"If you needed a new set of clothing," she retorted huffily, "you could have at least gotten something that matched my new, ravishing pink with orange polka-spots dress!"

Angrily he huffed back, "I did! See this ravishing slash horrendous tie??"
"It is not at all horrendous, and I don't believe you," she said, crossing her arms and jutting out her chin.

He stammered, attempting to explain, when a thief ran into the store. He suddenly realized that he was now madly in love with the robber and hated the girl with all his being. Thus, the intimate moment was over and he declared his newfound passion to the thief.

So the man and the thief got engaged and the woman went off to build a lucrative career. And the thief said, "I am very happy I met you, mister, because I thought I would be forever single."

Then he realized that his previous feelings were just indigestion, told her she would be forever single, turned her in to the police, found the girl, kissed her, apologized, and they eloped and lived happily ever after.

Notes: Jeanette thought we went into an extended flashback and I misread the sentence preceding my third sentence as saying the moment was startled, not started. Also, notice that the thief never actually steals anything or even attempts to steal anything. We just magically know that she is a thief.

Also, don't worry, when I really write a book I will make it a point to know what happened two sentences previously.

Living Forever

Speaking of books, last December I read The Declaration by Gemma Malley. It was a decent enough book, but not one I would recommend or consider buying. It did, however, get me thinking a bit.

The concept is that a wonderdrug has been developed that stops aging and death. Most of the world's population takes it. And because the older generation is not dying off, there are not enough resources to support new children. So it is now illegal to reproduce unless you agree as a young adult not to take the drug.

So, after reading this book, I got to thinking- what would you do if you lived forever? One minor character did a lot of traveling. She has now been everywhere countless times. And as I see it, a large part of the fun of traveling is to experience new things. After a very long while, you would run out of things to experience. So, maybe just interacting with your friends. I do enjoy conversations with friends. But how long can you think of new topics? Could you really do that for an eternity without a changing world to bring up new inspiration? I really don't know about that one.

Then I thought, what will we do for eternity after we die? Heavenly Father's work is about his children. But will that work eventually change, or will he need to help us forever, or does he have an infinite number of children to send to earths? The idea of his having an infinite number of children is mind-boggling- but then, so is the idea of eternity. I have been known to attempt to ponder that when I feel the need to confront an idea I can't comprehend in order to create a pleasant brain ache. But the idea that He will later help us help our children as he helps us now is an interesting one that I will ponder further.

Marginalia

Towards the end of February, I posted in response to a book that I was reading at the time. Now I want to follow up with some other thoughts I had while reading the same section.

I may have mentioned that various people study the books that famous writers and scholars read, trying to understand how they thought. Well, one thing they study is their marginalia- the notes written in margins. Or commonplace books where others wrote their thoughts all together, combining the notes from their different readings in one convenient location. It mentioned the disappointment felt when some figure was found not to have notated their books in any noticeable way.

Well, that got me to thinking about my own habits. I never write in any books besides my scriptures. I have heard that it can help in studying- that the writing helps you retain information and then you are better able to return to significant sections for later study. But I never really took to it.

In high school, I had a few teachers who required me to write as I read. I had one English teacher who had us make notes as we read on post-it notes and stick them in the pages of our books. I mostly wrote them after finishing, and usually did not have as many notes as the other students. A history teacher made us outline the chapters of our textbook and turn them in as a regular assignment. And a different English teacher required us to in our notebooks write down the questions we had while reading on one side of a page and our insights and other non-question thoughts on the other.

Well, after doing these assignments, I found that I only found it all annoying. When I had to write down my thoughts as I read, it slowed me down, and the constant interruption disrupted the flow- of the story or narrative and of my thoughts. And after I finish reading something, I generally do remember the major insights I had. And I can come up with better ones with a better flowing story. And not making notes on a story never hurt my ability to write an essay about it. I could always think of plenty of points to defend my thesis. The only way notes could have made it easier would have been to help me find the relevant passages for quoting- which wasn't a big problem. I rarely use bookmarks, so am perfectly used to trying to find the right part of the book just by remembering what happens when and about how far into it I am. Since I do not find note taking helpful, I don't do it.

Well, that and the fact that I've read books with notations in them before, and they are as distracting as taking the notes myself- I am compelled to stop and read them, which disrupts the flow, and they rarely add to my comprehension or enjoyment. Plus, I have never read a book that I did not plan to let someone else read later on. Books are communal property in my family. Yes, they have an owner in name, but we all read everybody else's libraries, too. So in consideration to others, I leave my books blank.

Sorry, future researchers who desire to peer into my soul. You'll have to find some other way to figure me out. Good luck.

Reading List

There is a note going around facebook that starts with this claim: "Apparently the BBC reckons most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here (Guess it doesn't count if you saw the movie or watched the series on PBS!)." Then, as you would expect, it lists the 100 'books' and you mark which ones you have read. I filled it out and posted it, but I do have a couple quibbles.

Included on the list are Harry Potter series (I thought there were 7 books in that), Lord of the Rings (at least three, but I think each book could be divided into smaller books. I don't remember for sure), His Dark Materials (three books), Hamlet, and the complete works of Shakespeare. Now, I figure if the complete works of Shakespeare is to be considered a book, Hamlet should not be listed separately.

And I would like to see included in the introduction a link to the source of this claim about the BBC.

But as I said, I participated. I like to fill these things out and compare with friends. I won't post the list here, because I find it annoying to come across those on blogs when I'm expecting a thoughtful note or life update. It's not such a big thing on facebook because most of the notes are these survey things anyway. But I will tell you that I read 34 or 35 of them. I'm not sure whether I actually read Little Women all the way through or if I've just read the children's illustrated classic version. And there are a couple that I've read most of but never quite finished.

Anyway, I read 34 or 35. And when I counted them up, I felt quite un-well read. My friend Beth has read 32, and she feels much the same. Now, when you compare our results to the 6 that the average person is supposed to have read, we really did pretty well. But going through the list, I mainly saw all the books I haven't read.

Oh, and I also compared my score to Dad's- he has read 61. And I was like, "That's almost twice as many as me. I really need to catch up." Which makes no sense, because he is more than twice as old as I am.

But there are some books on that list that I really have been meaning to read. And I am now going to make it a point to do so soon.