External Consistency

I recently followed a link to a tarot card site and got some free readings. The general, love, and career ones, meant to answer specific questions I thought of while selecting the cards, were not particularly illuminating. Then I went to another love one which was supposed to predict romantic compatibility based on birthdates. So I entered my birthdate and chose a date for the guy, then it used those dates to assign us cards. I was Chariot; he was Strength. And this is how the analysis ended: "Both are independent spirits but Strength likes to occasionally imagine there is such a thing as soul mate and love of a lifetime. Chariot is far too sensible for that nonsense and inevitably Strength can feel Chariot is simply too cool a cucumber to meet the requirements for passion."

The first thought that struck me upon reading this was, "Since when am I too sensible to imagine a love of a lifetime?" I actually posted some of my not-entirely-against thoughts on the matter here.

Then I remembered that I am a Scorpio. The attributes associated with Scorpios that I always remember are passion and mystery. So, if the date of my birth makes me a passionate Scorpio, how can it also make me "too cool a cucumber to meet the requirements for passion"? I thought that maybe my mysteriousness hides my passionate depths, but then that is basically saying that Mr. Strength writes me off before bothering to really look for the capacity for passion. And that does not seem right at all.

Is it really too much to ask that two completely unrelated divination systems fit together logically?

Unspeakable Things

On Friday I was reading the part in the Book of Mormon where Christ is giving his apostles in the Americas their desires. Then, after Christ leaves, "...the heavens opened, and they were caught up into heaven, and saw and heard unspeakable things. And it was forbidden them that they should utter; neither was it given unto them power that they could utter the things which they saw and heard..."

I have often thought about why it was that they can't speak of the things they saw. The first part, where it says they saw unspeakable things, sounds like human language is inadequate to describe what they saw. But in the next sentence, it says they were not given power that they could utter the things they saw and heard. And that sounds more like they would just be too emotionally overwhelmed to do so.

Maybe human language isn't quite inadequate, and if they try to get across what they can in their language, they can't get the words out because of the power of the experience?

What Are They Thinking?

Not too long ago there was a popular video going around called "Should Christian women wear bikinis?" that talked about how the male brain reacts to seeing a scantily-clad woman. In it, the presenter read an excerpt from an article from Princeton and said, in part, "When the young men viewed the scantily-clad women, the part of the brain associated with tool use lit up...The researchers also discovered that when some of the men viewed these scantily-clad females, the men's medial prefrontal cortex (part of your brain) was deactivated... This is the region of the brain associated with analyzing a person's thoughts, intentions, and feelings.... The doctor remarked, 'It's as if they were reacting to these women as if they were not fully human.'"

I didn't read the research myself, but I'm assuming for now that it made it through peer review and was published in a reputable academic journal. And judging from the men of my acquaintance who shared it, it does fit with their personal experience, at least to some extent.

I would like to point out, by the way, that not every man's medial prefrontal cortex deactivated when looking at the pictures.

On Tuesday, a college friend of mine shared a link about a new law in Pakistan against throwing acid on women. As part of her response to a question I asked about it, she said, "Before this law, it was customary for a man to throw acid on a woman for an indiscretion like failing to bear a son, or out of rejection (if I can't have her, no one will want her because she'll be disfigured!), or through an inability to provide a handsome dowry to the husband from her parents, or for any reason that stems from revenge, or the need to dominate and control."

I can't help but wonder what the brain scans would show when those men looked at a woman. Because even a tool is generally better treated than that. And it's hard to imagine that somebody would throw acid at a person while really considering their thoughts, intentions, and feelings.

Different Perspectives

Here are a couple excerpts from Flip by David Lubar from different points of view that are interesting to consider together. I think this reflects the sort of thing that happens all the time.

Taylor:
"They're checking us out," Ariel whispered. She ran a hand through her hair.

Taylor shook her head. "Not us. Just you." There was no denying Ariel was gorgeous. Boys had been looking at her since the fifth grade.

"Don't talk like that," Ariel said.

Taylor sped up, eager to get away from the group by the door. But wherever she and Ariel went, she was aware of the stares. And aware that they weren't aimed at her.

Ellis:
Taylor was pretty, too. Maybe even prettier than Ariel, he thought as he studied the two of them together. But she was so much like a sister, he had no trouble talking when she was around. I wonder if she knows how pretty she is? He figured she must. How could she not know?

A Quick Anne Quote

Tonight I was thinking about things my friends sometimes post on facebook, bragging on their husbands' thoughtfulness or saying that they have the best husband in the world.

Then I remembered this exchange in Anne of Avonlea.

"What is it really like to be engaged?" asked Anne curiously.

"Well, that all depends on who you're engaged to," answered Diana, with that maddening air of superior wisdom always assumed by those who are engaged over those who  are not. "It's perfectly lovely to be engaged to Fred . . . but I think it would be simply horrid to be engaged to anyone else."

"There's not much comfort for the rest of us in that, seeing that there is only one Fred," laughed Anne.

Insert polygamy joke here.

Mismatched Moods

At the top of each hymn in our hymn book, there is an adjective indicating how each hymn should be played or sung. For some, it is Reverently. For others, it is Joyfully, or Resolutely, or Meekly. The adjective at the beginning of We Thank Thee, O God, For a Prophet is Brightly. And I think for the most part we do pretty well at singing that hymn brightly.

But the thing is, there are a couple of lines in that song that just don't feel at all happy or bright to me. When I sing them, the contrast between what I am singing and the manner in which I am singing it is rather disconcerting.

The first line is in the second verse: The wicked who fight against Zion will surely be smitten at last.
I can see how there can be some comfort in knowing that justice will be served. But smitten is a very strong verb and it is easy to go from being glad that there will be justice, a good thing, to enjoying the thoughts of our enemies suffering as a type of cosmic revenge. Also, I tend to think of this justice as being a sober thing that must be fulfilled, not as something bright and cheerful. I also remember that nearly all people will be inheriting some degree of glory in the hereafter and that we are told to love our enemies. Those two bits of information do not seem at all consistent with feeling joy while thinking of anybody being smitten.

I previously posted thoughts on a similar matter in Death of a Bad Man.

The other line that bothers me is the very last line of the song: While they who reject this glad message shall never such happiness know.

When I was a teenager, I had a hard time understanding how we could be truly happy knowing that other people missed out on so many blessings and chances for progression in the eternities. Especially people we knew and loved. I found a section in C.S. Lewis's book The Great Divorce that helped me, but unfortunately I can't find the book now.*

But it still saddens me when I think of people missing out. And these aren't even necessarily bad people. They just for whatever reason do not accept the gospel. There are plenty of good, moral people out there who don't believe or don't give it a chance. So to sing brightly about them missing out just doesn't sit quite right with me.

That said, I do like the hymn overall. I had a very wonderful experience singing it in the Conference Center during General Conference several years ago (which is actually the first time I remember noticing the disconnect). I am grateful for the gospel and the prophet and continuing revelation, and I do feel the optimism and hope expressed. I just wish that a couple of what seem to me very serious, sober lines were treated with a touch more gravitas.

___________________________
* December 3, 2011: I now have a copy of the book with me and found the passage, which it turns out is a bit too long to include in the main post. So I'm putting it down here.

"...What some people say on Earth is that the final loss of one soul gives the lie to all the joy of those who are saved."

"Ye see it does not."

"I feel in a way that it ought to."

"That sounds very merciful: but see what lurks behind it."

"What?"

"The demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe: that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy: that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto Heaven....it must be one way or the other. Either the day must come when joy prevails and all the makers of misery are no longer able to infect it: or else for ever and ever the makers of misery can destroy in others the happiness they reject for themselves."

Parenthood Matters

I've actually had a couple other posts in the works for a while, but one of the talks in Sacrament Meeting today reminded me of something I had noticed during General Conference. It's pretty short and easy to put together, so I'm posting it first.

In the Saturday afternoon session Elder Neil L. Andersen said:

Many voices in the world today marginalize the importance of having children or suggest delaying or limiting children in a family. My daughters recently referred me to a blog written by a Christian mother (not of our faith) with five children. She commented: "[Growing] up in this culture, it is very hard to get a biblical perspective on motherhood. ...Children rank way below college. Below world travel for sure. Below the ability to go out at night at your leisure. Below honing your body at the gym. Below any job you may have or hope to get." She then adds, "Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for."

The next morning Elaine S. Dalton said:

Today's popular culture tries to erode and demean your eternal role as a patriarch and father and minimize your most important responsibilities. These have been given to you by divine design, and as fathers you are to preside over [your] families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for [your] families.

So two different people in two different talks said basically the same things about mothers and fathers. We need both. Motherhood and fatherhood are both divine callings, more important than any other responsibility we will have on this earth. And the world and Satan are working to minimize the importance of both.

I also found it interesting for some reason that a man said the bit about motherhood and a woman said the part about fatherhood. But I think I'll not read much  into it for now.

And for those of you who want to read the messages in full, I did some searching and found the blog that Elder Andersen quoted. It is desiringgod.org/blog. That particular entry is titled Motherhood Is a Calling (And Where Your Children Rank). Elder Andersen's talk can be found here; Sister Dalton's is here.

Why I Don't Like Politics

I often feel like in order to be a truly informed voter, I should have advanced degrees in economics and in history with emphases in the United States, the current most volatile areas of the world, and the major ancient civilizations. Rome at the very least. I can listen to two very different plans for fixing the economy and see sense in both of them. If I really know the history of the ancient civilizations, I have a better chance of noticing if we're in danger of making the mistakes that lead to their falls. And when I was in high school, a big topic of debate was whether we should go into Iraq. I heard my peers talk about it, but I always felt like I didn't understand the background well enough to form an opinion. If I don't fully understand the cultural mindset of the other side and what they want, what our interactions with them were like in the past, and how we got to this situation in the first place, how in the world am I supposed to figure out what to do now?

And that is a very typical feeling for me. No matter how much I've read about the various candidates and issues, when political topics come up, I usually just listen because I feel like everybody else knows and understands the issues way more than I ever could.

There are a handful of issues that I feel like I have an adequate understanding of and have come up with some firm opinions. But even there I have problems. For example, suppose I agree with Candidate A on one issue, but like Candidate B better on another of equal importance to me. Both are serious problems at this point in time. How do I choose between them? Or maybe I like Candidate A on the big issue of the time which I care deeply about, but I like Candidate B better on most of the issues receiving less press right now but that could become very important later on in the term.

Then there are the more personal details about the candidates. Say Candidate A and Candidate B look very similar on most issues. Candidate A originally ran against Incumbent C because he had been in for a long time and A said the congress needed new blood. Now A has been in longer than C had been at the time, which makes A seem hypocritical. But there is one major issue that could go my way - if I vote in A.

And of course there's looking at the candidate records and deciding if Candidate A changes his voting patterns to reflect the wishes of his constituency, to gain the favor of future voters, or because something in the intervening years really changed his mind. Or maybe his actions seem inconsistent because of different limits in his powers and influence or because of changes in the world around him or because he is working for leverage on something that seems more important at the time. And did Candidate B really know what his campaign worker said, and did he agree?

Then there's all the interest in the candidates' personal lives. As a general rule, if I don't care about you as a person, I don't much care what you wear or where you go on vacation or what clubs you belong to. I really do not want to know details about your romantic life. But during political campaigns, all this stuff gets dragged out. And honestly, I do want to elect officials with integrity, which should be there in all areas of their lives. But sometimes it seems to go a bit far. It seems to me that the details of college indiscretions shouldn't have a large impact in their careers 50 years later unless there is significant evidence that the problem is still there. And I suppose it doesn't happen all the time. But I have seen things dragged up that look to me like ancient history.

When I reffed soccer, my job was usually to run lines and watch for out-of-bound balls and offside violations. These responsibilities required me to stay exactly even with the second to last defender (or, occasionally, the ball), while keeping track of who had possession of the ball at all times, what attackers were between me and the goal, and when the ball was kicked. When I decided to stop reffing, it was largely because having to watch all that at once seemed impossible - I can only really look in one direction at a time. And it stressed me out.

When it comes to politics, I feel like I have even more to watch. And that can be for just one race.

Less Inspiring Scripture

Scriptures that nobody shares as the Spiritual Thought before a lesson:

Ether 10:3
And his eldest son, whose name was Shez, did rebel against him; nevertheless, Shez was smitten by the hand of a robber, because of his exceeding riches, which brought peace again unto his father.

Ether 14:1
And now there began to be a great curse upon all the land because of the iniquity of the people, in which, if a man should lay his tool or his sword upon his shelf, or upon the place whither he would keep it, behold, upon the morrow, he could not find it, so great was the curse upon the land.

A Real, Adult Testimony

When I was a little girl, I loved to go up on Fast Sundays to share my testimony. I remember being so excited about having my chance to speak and eagerly asking a member of the bishopric whose turn it was to go, and how extra thrilling it was when it was my turn.

I noticed that when adults bore testimony, they tended to tell stories, while children's testimonies tended to be more straightforward lists of beliefs and thanks. Then one Sunday when I was about 7 years old, one of the older Primary girls went up to the stand and included a story with her testimony. At that point, I wondered when I would be able to share a real, adult testimony with a story included.

A few years later, an elder was speaking in our ward. It may have been part of fast and testimony meeting; it may have been an assigned talk. I don't really remember. What I do remember is that he said that the typical listing of beliefs and thanks given by little children isn't a real testimony. I don't remember a thing about what he said after that. Dad later talked to us all about what the missionary said, but I still was left with the impression that according to this missionary, what I had to say during testimony meeting was not a real testimony. So for a time after that, I stopped going up.

Well, I have shared my testimony several times since then. Not as often as I had when I was 4, or even as often as when I was 7. But I do on occasion. And when I do, I'm generally pretty straightforward. At the core, my testimony consists of a list of things I believe and know. There is a God who loves us. Christ lives. Our prayers are heard. There is a prophet on the earth today.

And that simple list is a real, adult testimony.

Another Random Thought

Our sacrament hymn this last Sunday was #190, In Memory of the Crucified. As I sang the line "May thy sweet Spirit here abide," I briefly thought of how the term Sweet Spirit has come to mean an unattractive girl.

And then I wondered what the Holy Ghost looks like.

A Sense of Proportion

This post uses in discussion a plot point from The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams. It is not necessary to have read the book, but if you'd like to avoid spoilers for it, you may not want to read this now.

Teaching Children

On the first anniversary of the September 11 attacks, my history teacher had us write how we would explain the attacks to our future children. It was an interesting exercise, looking back: seeing something from our experience and our lifetime as an event that would be studied in similar history classes in the future as well as showing that what we were studying in that class had impacted the lives of real people. Well, it had that potential, anyway.

My city decided to hold a moment of silence at 11:00 this morning. The Bishop informed us of this during the announcements at the beginning of Sacrament Meeting so we would know what was going on if they set it off with sirens or something, and so we could participate if we so desired. It would be during the transition between Sunday School and Relief Society/Priesthood, so wouldn't affect the adults' lessons. I, however, would be in Primary. Because I have never bothered to memorize the exact start and end times of lessons - knowing what time to get to church and about what time I'll be leaving has always been enough for me - I wasn't sure whether I would be in class or in Sharing Time. But I did know that if they announced the moment of silence with sirens, the kids would be curious about what was going on. And so I thought a bit about what I would tell them if our class was disrupted. And I wondered whether hearing about it would scare them, and if so how I could help them feel safe, or if it would seem so long ago as to have no meaning in their lives. After all, 10 years ago none of them had even been born.

Well, the class wasn't disrupted. Apparently the city trusted everybody to realize that it was time to be quiet on their own. But the possibility started me thinking about when I will be teaching my own children. Will I be telling them about September 11 as a one-time thing when they are older and able to understand complex topics, in a manner similar to the paper I wrote in class? Will I teach them a little bit at a time as they're ready to hear it? Or will the topic just never come up and I leave it entirely to the schools? I hope I will do it the second way, a little at a time. That seems to be the best way to handle most topics. But I worry that I'll end up going with the third because it just doesn't come up and I don't think to bring it up or can't find a way to do so.

Best Friends Forever

It's confession time again.

Sometimes I like to read those dating and relationship articles on MSN.com. It's mostly an entertainment thing. After all, most of those articles are one person's opinion and experiences presented as absolute truth. I definitely am not going to go date a guy who is all wrong for me but has great abs just because some online writer put that on a list of things to do before I get married And it's fun to laugh at the lists of 50 things women wish men knew - about half of which are blatantly untrue. For me, at least.

But mixed in there are some not so fun ones. Griping, bitter ones. Lists of annoying things that couples say or do. I sometimes read those ones too. And most of the things listed I see nothing wrong with. But the one I least understood was on a list of annoying relationship cliches.

"I married my best friend."

I was a little bit stunned to see that on there because I had always thought it was about the most romantic sentiment out there. After all, who doesn't want to be married to somebody who always has their back, whose company they enjoy, and around whom they can feel completely comfortable just being themselves? Then I read the commentary on it:

"Of this, a married girlfriend of mine writes, 'Oh, you're so unique! Your spouse is your BEST FRIEND? Wow. My husband is probably my favorite person to spend time with, but … I have a lot of great friends in my life.' This one is true. Perhaps your spouse is your closest friend, or your best guy friend, but he doesn't have to be your end-all, be-all. So stop making other people feel bad."

So what exactly do these people think a best friend is? Evidently not your closest friend or your favorite person to be with. No, a best friend is apparently supposed to be your only friend. An idea I thought everybody had grown out of by adulthood.

Beautiful Beast

Earlier this summer, I read a new (to me) retelling of Beauty and the Beast. As usual, at the end of the story the Beast turns human because Beauty confesses her love for and to him. Although this version didn't say much about the Prince's human appearance, he typically is depicted as being very handsome. And for probably the first time, I wondered how Beauty felt about that.

Generally in the story, it is a good thing - she is able to see past his exterior and love him for who he is, so she is rewarded with a handsome exterior that she can be actually attracted to. But she learned to love the Beast for who he was. And who you are does include, to some extent, your physical body.

She probably does eventually get used to and appreciate his new form. But how long does it take for her to look at him and see her Beast?

A Disturbing Misconception

One morning a few years ago when I had gone in to work a morning shift, before we all dispersed to our various posts, one of my coworkers claimed that if a boy has not had sex by the time he was fifteen, something was wrong with him. The woman he was talking to, who I would guess to be in her thirties, seemed to agree with his assessment. I felt that had to be challenged. So I said what I could think of to say at the moment, which was basically that there was nothing wrong with having moral standards against early sex. It has always felt somewhat inadequate, but was the best response I could formulate at the time.

Of course, it is not at all wrong for a boy to remain a virgin long past the fifteenth birthday. In fact, there is something wrong with a boy who does have sex that early. If there wasn't a problem before, there will be one later in consequence. I really do not want to go find the appropriate research now, but I know that aside from the spiritual issues that will come, especially if he has been taught better, people who have sex earlier tend to have more emotional problems than those who wait.

And there is something very wrong with a society where that opinion is accepted as fact.

Applied Scripture Study

For some reason, I've been thinking lately about an LDS romance novel I read years ago. I can't remember the title or author and can't find that information online. I do remember the plot, including many minor details. But most of that doesn't really matter.

What does matter for my purposes, and what I've mainly thought about it (besides trying to remember the title and author because it bothers me that I can't), is that the main character, Sydney, is reading through the Book of Mormon, one chapter a day. And every day, she tries to apply what she reads into her life. When she comes across a chapter and can't quite embrace the message she is getting from it, she rereads that chapter the next day. And the next. And the next. She does not move on to the next chapter until she feels that she is really improving in that area (I feel like it had something to do with hope, but I'm not 100% on that).

As I remember her pattern of scripture study, I wonder how following a similar program would work with me. Would it help me focus more on self-improvement? Would I get overwhelmed by the constant addition of new attributes to focus on? Or would I get stuck on one chapter for so long that I would get sick of it and move on to some other system?

They Are Also Sayd to Love

I don't really believe in love at first sight.

As I said on here before, the word love can actually be a bit unspecific. So, to clarify, it is possible to care about somebody the first time you see them. It is even possible to care deeply about someone early on.

But when it comes to being actually in love with somebody, it takes more time. In Win a Date With Tad Hamilton, after Tad tells Rosie that he loves her, she says, "You maybe wanna love me, but I think what you love right now is the idea of me. You can't love someone for what they stand for or what they seem to be. You have to love them for their details; for the little things that are true for them and only them." And I'm not sure how exactly I share that feeling, but I do know that for certain types of love, including what I tend to think of in association with the phrase "love at first sight", you need to know somebody well.

This past spring, I was really bothered by how often in literature characters are depicted as being 'in love' with someone they barely know. The offender I remember most clearly is The Three Musketeers, probably because of a combination of it being what I was reading when I got really irritated and because it is particularly bad in this regard. As I remember it, d'Artagnan, the protagonist, falls in love with two different women he knows absolutely nothing about. The first woman he finds out is really bad news, and he falls out of love with her fairly quickly - more quickly than I think would be possible for anything I would consider more than a crush. If it had come out that he had just thought himself to be in love, that would be one thing. But no, it is referred to as though he really had been in love and just got over it. I sometimes thought that maybe it was a problem with the translation; that the French had different words that more exactly expressed the nature of the feelings. But I wasn't completely convinced. Partly because I had noticed similar issues in books I read in their original language - English.

Last Wednesday I was reading Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes. In Chapter VI, Hobbes defines a number of the terms he will be using throughout the book. About love, he says, "That which men Desire, they are also sayd to LOVE: and to HATE those things, for which they have Aversion. So that Desire, and Love, are the same thing..."

As I read that, I thought that reading 'love' to mean 'desire' would work really well for me in books such as The Three Musketeers.

Scientifically Rigorous Faith

When you read through Church lesson manuals, like the ones for Primary or Family Home Evening, it isn't unusual to come across a sentence saying something like, "Share a time when your life was blessed through obedience to the principle of ________."

Well, I've always had a hard time singling out exact cause and effect for my blessings. Even during my most dramatically difficult or tempting times, no blessing has ever jumped out at me as coming because I obeyed that specific commandment that had given me trouble. If I paid my tithing and then found some money I forgot I had, I didn't make any connection between the two things.

So maybe I should take careful note of all the blessings in my life, then stop obeying various commands one at a time. That way, I can see what I stop being blessed with and what comes back when I resume my obedience. It's the most scientifically rigorous study of the issue I can think of at this point.

In God We Trust

Our closing hymn in sacrament meeting today, in recognition of Independence Day, was The Star Spangled Banner. We sang all three of the verses included in our hymnal. When we got to the line saying "And this be our motto, in God is our trust," I wondered how many people in the United States would currently take that as their motto.

In my Book of Mormon institute class (the first half), we were discussing Mosiah 29, where it talks about how when the people were righteous, they would tend to choose righteous laws and leaders. But when they started choosing iniquity, the time had come to meet God's judgments. At that time, we felt that about half the country was righteous. Our teacher said that when he was growing up, most of the country was living in righteousness. I don't know if our answer would have changed since that time.

But back to the motto. We don't really hide it. It's written on all our money, for one thing. But I wonder how many people are really aware of it. And I wonder, if we consistently sang every verse of the national anthem every time, would that have a noticeable effect on the religiosity of American citizens? Or would it just lead to more protests against state-supported religious displays?

A Literary Name Nerd

I was reading Winter's Child by Cameron Dokey and found this passage:

Though my father and I never discussed names again, that afternoon marked the beginning of my fascination with them. I began to make a study of names, collecting them much like other children collected coins or stamps or dolls.

It wasn't simply the sound of a name that appealed to me, though I did enjoy this: the way a name felt inside your mouth as you formed its syllables, the space it occupied in the air when you pronounced it. But there was also the way a name and the person who bore it got along together. For this, or so it always seemed to me, was the heart of what a name is all about.

It really tickled me to find this. It's the first time I ever saw name love come up in a novel.

It's About Love

Over the last several days I've had an unprecedented spike in page views. It's been a bit bizarre for me to think of the sheer quantity of people, most likely complete strangers, who found their way over here.

Today during church I thought of a way I could take advantage of this sudden wave of popularity. No, I'm not Monetizing. Notice the lack of ads on the page.

My cousin Bob and his wife want to be parents. They are trying to adopt but need a birth parent to choose them for their child. If you are in a position to place a child for adoption, or if you know somebody who is, please look at their profile. It has a message from them, pictures, and answers to some get-to-know-you questions. I have had a link up on my left sidebar for a while now and it will remain there so you can find it easily should you become aware of a situation where it might prove useful (that sentence sounds very clunky but I can't think of a better way to phrase it at the moment).

Any child placed with them would be loved and cherished. Please give them the chance to fill that spot in their home and their hearts.

Any Other Name

When Kate Bjorkman starts actually dating her brother's friend in the book The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman (Sorry for the spoiler, but seriously, it's a romance. You know they're going to get together.), she starts calling him Richard instead of Rich.

In The Luckiest Girl by Beverley Cleary, Shelley won't call Philip "Phil" because the nickname doesn't feel special enough for him.

I don't get that.

Whatever my feelings about them, I tend to think of boys by whatever everybody else calls them. If he generally goes by Ricky, I think of him as Ricky. If he goes by Richard, that's what I call him. The only time I didn't, it was because his nickname was very unusual, which made it seem like a pet name. And I did not feel close enough to him to use it. I did eventually get over that. But it was a real issue, because a pet name is special. Short form nicknames are often just "their name" - if you ask a guy his name and he answers Dave, there's a pretty good chance his birth certificate says David. But nobody is likely to answer the "what is your name" question with the pet name their mother calls them unless they're about a year old.

You hear of lovers calling each other pet names like honey, bunny pie, sweetums, and so forth. Other names actually come from real attributes and specific conversations between the people involved. I understand those. In fact, I actually use some. But I don't understand when or how you go from calling somebody "Jack" or "Alice" to calling them "Darling". And I am apparently not the only person who finds the transition odd. When Zack and Kelly get engaged in Saved By the Bell: College Years, Zack decides the time has come for them to use the traditional appellations, and he and Kelly have the following conversation:

Zack: Well, good morning, honey.
Kelly: Honey?
Zack: Sure. I mean, what do almost married people call each other? I know, I know, why don't you call me what your mom calls your dad?
Kelly: Okay, I'll call you Frank.

Maybe I could someday end up calling some guy weird petnames Or be called them by him. I don't see it now, but I probably shouldn't say impossible. Still, when I think of it... well, I was watching Oklahoma! with my family one day this winter, and when Ado Annie sang about "Sposing that he says that you're sweeter than cream, and he's gotta have cream or die?" I said I'd probably laugh at him. It's not that I don't like romance - I do. I just don't think that is romantic. Romance should be sincere and personal. And a lot of those over-the-top compliments usually seem insincere, unoriginal, and impersonal. I want compliments that apply specifically to me and could not be used on just any old girl who catches your fancy. And even more than that, I want them to actually mean something.

Timeless

The June issue of Scientific American came in the mail yesterday. So I brought it with me to read on the bus today.

One of the articles, about evidences of quantum mechanics showing up in macroscopic systems, predicts major changes in our understanding of the fundamental laws of the universe. The article is here. I think you'll be able to read it, but if not, you'll at least be able to get the main points off the "In Brief" sidebar.

But what I'm writing about is the last sentence of the fourth-to-last paragraph, which says "We must explain space and time as somehow emerging from fundamentally spaceless and timeless physics."

When I read that sentence, I didn't think of a complete change in how I see and understand the world. At least, not for more than a few seconds. What I really thought was that if reality is fundamentally timeless, then the idea of Heavenly Father seeing all times as now is a lot easier to comprehend.

Nonfictional Characters

Around the time I started high school I was pretty into historical fiction novels (as opposed to historical nonfiction novels, I suppose). They helped me relate to people living in different periods and helped me to connect with history in a way I never had before. After reading about them in novels, the events we studied in history class were no longer dry lists of dates, but influences in real people's lives. Sure, I knew that before. But I didn't realize it so much until I saw the world through their eyes for a while.

In a lot of historical fiction, real people play a role in the story. Sometimes they have little walk-on roles. Sometimes they are minor characters who appear often enough to become familiar, but are never really center stage. Occasionally they never appear onstage, but influence events indirectly. And once in a while the entire novel focuses around real historical figures.

Recently I started to wonder what these historical figures would think of the way they are portrayed in novels. Would they be offended at the way they are portrayed? Flattered? Do the authors ever get them right?

And do any of them know they are being written about?

Death of a Bad Man

Reading people's responses to the news of bin Laden's death last night left me feeling ill. Not all of them. The ones talking about political and military consequences didn't bother me. What got to me was people in joyful celebration of the death of another human being.

Sometimes when a person dies, their friends and family are glad that they are done with the pain and suffering from disease. I don't know much about bin Laden's condition over the last few years. It wouldn't surprise me if there had been suffering. But somehow I doubt that's what my facebook friends are celebrating. And sometimes people use a funeral as a celebration of the life that has just ended, remembering the fun times and the good things the recently deceased did and achieved. I find this an even less likely reason for my friends' attitudes. What they really remind me of are public executions.

I've read of hangings and beheading and such being festive occasions where people crowd into the town square to see the proceedings. I don't know if they actually went down as such; this image comes entirely from novels and movies. But I could never understand why somebody would want to go see a person killed, and then afterward how they could have any spirit of gaiety or even an appetite. They just watched a person die. A life was taken. Even if the punishment was deserved (and I am not at all in the mood to debate the merits of capital punishment), it should have been a sober occasion.

I tell myself that the celebrations are because they see a military victory and a step towards peace. And I am sure that for some it is. But what it looks like to me is delight in the killing of an enemy. Well, I'm not good at looking at people as enemies. The closest I come is wishing bad luck on sports rivals. I am a complete failure at hatred. And what I see is that one of Heavenly Father's children has been killed. And instead of a celebration of the great life lived, I feel sorrow for the waste of potential and the loss of the good life that could have been.

Loverly

The first time I watched My Fair Lady, I was a teenager with dreams of perfect romance and I thought Eliza should end up with Freddy. After all, he was the young, attractive boy who was so smitten with her that he was happy just to wait around outside her door, then followed her to the bad part of town because he was concerned for her safety before escorting her home again.

Several years went by and I watched it again. My ideas of romance had changed somewhat since then, and this time I saw Freddy as a foolish boy with too few responsibilities and who was infatuated with Eliza because she was different than the girls he was used to. But I still don't like her going back to Professor Higgins. He treats her like an object. And the revelation that he treats her the same as everybody else, which was supposed to be a good thing, is the biggest turn-off of all. I'd rather a man treat me poorly because of some personal bias than because he just doesn't have any respect for people in general.

So I think the best ending for Eliza would be to be set up in a flower shop, like she had wanted at the beginning. Sure, it would be hard at first. But she'd adjust. And it'd be better than being married off to a man who has no concern for anybody other than himself or to a man who could never understand where she came from.

We'll Bring the World His Truth

We have been born, as Nephi of old
To goodly parents who love the Lord.
We have been taught, and we understand,
That we must do as the Lord commands.

We have been saved for these latter days
To build the kingdom in righteous ways.
We hear the words our Prophet declares:
"Let each who's worthy go forth and share."

We know his plan, and we will prepare,
Increase our knowledge through study and prayer.
Daily we'll learn until we are called
To take the gospel to all the world.

We are as the Army of Helaman.
We have been taught in our youth.
And we will be the Lord's missionaries
To bring the world his truth.

Janice Kapp Perry

Today in Primary singing time we started learning We'll Bring the World His Truth. I hadn't though about this song much lately, but I quickly remembered how I used to love it.

At one point when singing the line "of goodly parents who love the Lord," I saw the song differently than I did as a child. I started thinking about me as one of those parents, and about finding a husband who loves the Lord. And about the large responsibility I will have someday to teach my children so that they can have faith and courage like the stripling warriors.

The Wrong Question

A week or two ago, someone asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, he asked why not. I had just met the guy, so I of course did not go through all the various factors contributing to my current single status. Actually, I probably wouldn't do that for, well, anybody. I just said, "I just don't" or something along those lines.

Later on, though, I thought about his question. And I thought it was the wrong question to be asking. Because the way I see it, being single is the default state, where you are when you don't have somewhere else to be.

Then today I remembered that one of my friends previously expressed basically the same sentiment. He is a single Mormon guy, older than the typical age of marriage for Mormon guys. And he has been asked before, "Why not this girl?" or "Why not that girl?" And he said that is the wrong question. He isn't going to marry a girl just because he can't think of anything wrong with her. He is going to marry a girl because he can come up with a compelling answer to the question, "Why should I marry her?"

I am not going to be in a relationship just to be in a relationship. I am going to stay single until I find somebody I really want to be with. And until then, if somebody asks me why I'm single, I guess I'm going to have to answer, "Because there is not currently somebody in my life who I think is worth being in a romantic relationship with, who thinks the same about me." Although hopefully I will find an easier, catchier way to say it.

Adjusting

One day last week when I was in a hurry to get to my bus on time, I grabbed the first book I saw with an interesting cover, skimming the blurb on the dust jacket to make sure it was fiction. (Yes, I judge books by the cover. So do you.) This book turned out to be LEFT Neglected by Lisa Genova, a story about a woman who develops left neglect after being in a car crash.

Left neglect is a rather fascinating disorder. When I read the dust jacket properly after leaving the house, I was actually a bit excited to realize it played a major role in the story. Basically, left neglect is your brain neglecting the left side, like you forget it's there. Everything physically works. You can see everything in front of you, but you aren't aware of anything to the left. Your limbs send sensation information. But your brain just ignores all that information. You can't consciously move your left arm or left leg, because your brain won't send them signals.

Anyway, when this lady's insurance won't pay for any more time in the rehabilitation center, she goes home. But while she was gone, her family made some changes. Because she didn't process what she saw on the left side, and she couldn't always move her left leg when walking or use her left arm to catch her, tripping became a real issue. So all the area rugs were removed from the house. Railings and grab bars were installed on the stairs and in the shower. They put brightly colored tape on the left sides of the door-frames in an attempt to get her attention, so she'd know they were there. And her mother moved in with them to help out. There were other changes, too, but you get the idea.

So I wondered what it would be like to come home and realize that your family has rearranged their home or their lives for you. Then I realized that my own family did to a certain extent when I was diagnosed with diabetes years ago. But at the time, I was just a little kid and didn't think much about how other people were affected, and now, everything just feels normal.

I also wondered how it would be to rearrange your home or life to accommodate new limitations for a loved one.

In my English class when I was a senior in high school, we once got into an argument about who had it harder during war - the boys, who were out fighting, or the girls at home, not knowing whether their men were alive or dead and not able to do anything about it. Well, while reading this book, I started wondering whether it would be harder to be the person who is living with the injuries and the knowledge of what her family is sacrificing for her or to be the family making the sacrifices and watching their daughter, wife, or mother suffer. Upon realizing that the men at war are actually seeing their friends die, I decided they have it harder. But I still don't know about this scenario.

Re-Framing

They're at it again. The Valentine haters, I mean. I'm not surprised; they make their fuss every year. I've written a little about my feelings about Valentine's Day before, here and here, and I thought I didn't have anything more to say. But it turns out I was wrong.

I recently read  an article online that said, "Valentine's Day is a warm, happy, romantic, charming day for nearly everyone. Everyone except people who are divorced, widowed, unhappily married, never married, fighting with their significant other, working overtime, struggling with morning sickness, in the hospital, in Afghanistan, on a business trip or can't afford a present. In other words, everyone except nearly everyone."

This wasn't really a Valentine's Day bash. It's more about handling loss. You can read it here if you want. But I didn't care much for her opening.

Sure, Valentine's Day is legitimately hard for a lot of people. I'm thinking mainly of those who are missing their loved one - the same people who have a legitimately hard time at any other holiday. But you don't hear so much about "Christmas/Easter/Thanksgiving is a happy day for everyone except nearly everyone."

The summer of 1999 I got a bit depressed at my grandpa's annual 24th of July party. It just wasn't the same as previous years, somehow. Well, my aunt talked to me then about how when you get older, a lot of holidays change, and you need to find a meaning and a way of looking at them that works for you. And that's the way it goes. Santa and presents lose their magic? Re-frame how you look at Christmas. Think of the joy of giving, think of baby Jesus.

Well, I think some people really should re-frame how they look at Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be about the romance. It definitely doesn't have to be about gifts and money. What works for me is to see it as a reminder of all the people I love - especially my friends. Maybe not everybody can see it exactly that way. But the holiday is going nowhere. And I think being happy will come easier if they find some new meaning than if they continue seeing it as a couple's day.

That's Love

There is at least one song on my itunes that I don't really like but haven't ever bothered to delete. The music is fine. But I don't agree with the message. The song? That's Love by Brad Paisley. Here are some of the lyrics:

You're starin' at a burnt steak
You bite the bullet and you clean your plate
And then you go on and on about how great it was
That's not a lie, that's love.

Well, it's the very same thing
That she does for you...
Your bummin' out, she says
There's somethin' kinda sexy about a bald head...
That's not a lie, that's love.

As I've mentioned here before, I am big on honesty. I want to be able to trust that you will tell the truth. I want to know that I can count on you to tell me things I should know, even if it might hurt my feelings in the moment. Say it as tactfully as you can, but don't lie. And I take that upon myself, too. If I choose to lie, I am going to remember and feel bad about it for years to come. Yes, years. Trust me on this.

Besides, if I burn dinner, I know, and I probably feel bad about it. If it's like bad gravy on a Goodyear tire (Paisley's words) and we can afford it, you can even get us something else to eat - spontaneous dinner out, delivery, fast food, whatever. Otherwise, yes, clean your plate. But don't tell me it's great - I have taste buds too, you know.

And from what I know about love and women, a girl who says a bald head is sort of sexy may actually feel that way. Especially when that bald head is part of the man she loves.

Better advice comes in this column by Orson Scott Card. Basically, he is saying that if it doesn't really matter, you don't have to say anything. If it does, be tactful with the where, when, and how. But tell the truth. Now, that's love.

The Song of My Heart

I like to sing. And I'm pretty good at it. I also like to perform - there is just something invigorating about being in front of a large crowd, all focused on me. Assuming I'm prepared and it's not largely made up of people whose opinions particularly matter to me. Otherwise I'm more likely to become a nervous wreck.

So, of course, choir was a natural fit for me, and I have performed in several of them. Women's Choir in junior high. Women's Chorus, Junior Choir, State Honor Choir, and Concert Choir in high school. Various ward choirs. Once or twice, I sang with the Choral Arts Society of Utah for the Days of '47 Sunrise Service (Mom, was that just once? Do you remember?). And I probably would have tried to be in a university choir if I had gone to a different college, but I was not willing to compete for the U in anything. Which left me feeling slightly guilty when the Rivalry Week food drive came around. But I digress.

These days, I mostly sing alone. Sometimes I'll sing along with a song playing on the radio, or sing some song stuck in my head, or I'll join in with a group who is singing various popular songs for fun. But when I am in private and sing for the sheer joy of singing, I usually don't sing rock or pop. When I sing for fun, by myself, I usually stick with church music or things I learned for one choir or another. Maybe they fit better my preferred style of singing. Maybe they are more tied to other occasions of losing myself in music. Or maybe they resonate more within my soul.