Lord, hear my cry!

Lord, hear my cry!
I am weak
and prone to wander
in my extremity
I come back to you.

Lord, hear my cry!
I am powerless
on my own
out of my control
I need your help.

Lord, hear my cry!
Give us faith
give us hope
calm our fears
soothe our hearts.

Lord, hear my cry!
Protect me please
help him to see
and know my heart.
Lord, hear my cry!

Oh! Now I Get It!

So, I'm not a big music buff. Some friends and I played Music Scene It a few months back, and I knew the answer to one question all night. I dread the "What kind of music do you like?" question that seems to inevitably pop up on every first date. (Except for the blind date I went on today; my date turned out to be a total hottie too! Thanks President Lewis!) It throws me back to being an awkward seventh grader who doesn't know the names of any of the cool bands, whose honest answer to the question is primary songs or The Beach Boys or Bach. However, with the help of my iPod, a sometimes very boring job, and my friend Andrew who hooks me up with good tunes, all that is starting to change.

I've been to a handful of concerts and liked some more than others. Generally I think they're too loud and overpriced. (Except for $10 tickets to The Fray last summer.) On Monday night my friends and I made the trek down to Orem for the Jimmy Eat World concert. Paramore opened for them, and that portion was similar to my other concert experiences: I knew a song or two and mostly enjoyed people watching during the show. Watching the security guys extract people from the crowd was unbelievably entertaining. Then . . . it happened.

Jimmy Eat World came on stage and played "Big Casino." It was awesome. They played a great show, and I knew every single song. I had so much fun. I sang along and even danced a little (but just a little). I decided it would be totally cool to meet the band. I wondered where they are playing their next show and if I could drive to see them, or at least when they would be coming back to Salt Lake. I thought to myself, "Oh! Now I get it!" Now I understand why people get so excited for concerts and why they are willing to pay so much for tickets. When you love the band and know the music, a concert is a great time. Thanks Jimmy!

Oblivious

In the past three weeks or so I've had several bad experiences with rude fellow students on campus. First off, I was in the computer lab and this guy walks in and sits at a computer near me. He was listening to big band music on his iPod. The volume was so loud that he might as well not have had ear buds at all; everyone could hear it. He hummed along a little and was completely oblivious to the fact that he was disturbing everyone around him. The other people in the lab were exchanging annoyed and incredulous glances. I finally couldn't take in anymore and rolled over to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and let him know that everyone could hear his music. He turned it down.

Last week I was studying at a table in the library. It is important to know that I was not in the "No Shhh Zone." A girl walked by, recognized the boy sitting next to me, and came over to say HI. A short chit chat in whispers is not exactly encouraged but understandable. I tolerated it for a while. Then she said that she had a story to tell him and took off her backpack, getting ready to stay for a while. I leaned over and asked if they would please have their conversation somewhere else. They left.

Today I was in the library again, sitting in the soft chairs. The girl next to me was having a texting conversation. This wouldn't be so bad except that she had jingle bells attached to her phone. Every time she moved her phone it was like a trip to Santa's Wonderland. Not exactly what I was hoping for when I entered the HBLL. Not too long later she pulls a bag of chips out of her bag and starts chomping away. Not only is that against the rules and a violation of library etiquette, it is extremely annoying. The sound of other people chewing, especially crunchy, smacky kind of chewing is the most annoying sound in the world to me. She got through two chips before I leaned over and asked, in a polite whisper, if she would please not eat. She said "Sure" with an annoyed kind of smile.

Are people really so oblivious that they have no concept of the fact that their actions affect others? Are they really so unaware? Or do they just not care? If they are going to inconvenience me, then I feel justified in inconveniencing them a bit in asking them to stop their inconsiderate behavior.

My Parents Suck

I had an amazing realization this week: my parents suck.

Now, before anyone goes jumping to conclusions, allow me to explain myself. My family pretty much fell apart back in 1993. In the space of less than three months my life was turned upside down. We moved, and by 'moved' I mean went on vacation and never went home. My step-dad left my mom. My dad disowned me. My mom went back to work and school. We had negative money, and my brother's health was worse than it had and has ever been.

It was a hard time for everyone. I came out the other end a complete mess. I was traumatized in the most literal sense. Depressed, scared to death, abandoned, believing it was my fault. As a child of eleven years old, I really didn't have the skills to cope with what happened.

I've been in therapy for a while now, sorting things out, learning coping skills, healing. This last week I had a breakthrough. Steve pointed out that as far as myself is concerned, there is a disconnect between my head any my heart. I have perfectly fine reasoning capabilities and critical thinking skills. However, I continue to believe negative things about myself and what happened to me that just aren't true. My head isn't getting through to my heart.

To help remedy this problem Steve and I talked through past events and he helped me see, logically, that I really didn't have anything to do with the crap that went on. It effected me, but I didn't cause it nor could I solve it. I saw over and over again how it really was unfair that my parents (both of them in different ways) put me in difficult situations and asked me to make decisions that no child should make. It was just bad parenting. They weren't fulfilling their roles as parents or accepting responsibility for their own choices. (I understand that this is somewhat vague, but I'm not going to go into specifics. I am posting this on the internet, after all.)

After going through several events, Steve asked me what I was thinking. I said, "my parents suck!" This was a breakthrough for me. I had spent so much time feeling guilty about decisions I made that it never occurred to me that I never should have been making those decisions in the first place. How nice to have that cleared up! I mean, before I live with it for fourteen years and it seriously effects my life and personality . . . oh wait! I guess I'm a little late for that.

Now, don't get me wrong. My parents are both good, faithful, kind, generous people. I have a good relationship with them both now, or as good as could be expected considering what we've put each other through. That said, they dropped the ball big time and I paid for it.

The Rock-Paper-Scissors Tournament of Chamions

Last time I was in Seattle, about a month ago, I met up with some old friends for lunch. Thai. Yum. I don't remember exactly what I had except that it was a variety of curry with tofu and that it was delicious. We had a good chat over lunch--Wendel, Ashley, that elephant we were refusing to acknowledge, and me. It was quite cozy, really. The check arrived. We had to decide who would pay. Wendel suggested we rock-paper-scissors for it. I consented and thus began the Rock-Paper-Scissors Tournament of Champions. . . .

Wendel provided the pre-game entertainment. He described some version of the game introduced to him by a co-worker: bear, hunter, something else. I don't remember exactly except that it was a full body activity. The narration and imagined visuals were highly entertaining.

After we had loosened up and decided on the rules--best two out of three, count to three then shoot--serious play could begin. The players wind up and make eye contact. Go. Fists pound palms. One, two, three/scissors. Foul on the play. The round will have to be re-played; Becca made a false start.

Players resume positions. One, two, three/rock. Foul! Becca jumped the gun again. Changing tournament rules is discussed. One, two, go on three? No, Becca is sure she can handle the intensity of tournament play and is willing to step up to the challenge of counting to three before going.

Resume positions. One, two three, rock/rock.

Again. One, two, three, paper/rock. Wendel is up by one.

One, two, threeeeeee. Foul on the play. Wendel has suffered an equipment failure; his fist doesn't leave his palm after three. Some hearty laughs and a few "this is awesome"s take care of the problem.

One, two, three, rock/scissors. The score is tied.

One, two, three, bear/bear. Just kidding, wrong game, it was two papers.

Everyone is on pins and needles (including the other people in the restaurant, although they were most likely looking forward to the end of the game more than the outcome). Sweat beading on brows and upper lips, the players settle in for what could be the last round. Will they tie again? Will Becca fall back into her early game mistakes? The players lock eyes, lean forward in their chairs, and give the final nod. One, two, three, scissors/paper.

Wendel wins the Rock-Paper-Scissors Tournament of Champions! His card is whisked away and he signs the bill with a flourish over glasses of celebratory ice water.

Until next time, SWPS. I'll be sharpening my skills and ready for the rematch.

The Problem is Bigger than I Thought

I was just on Facebook and was looking for an anti-high five group to join. I was completely distressed by the amount of pro-high five groups I found. What is the world coming to?

No More High Fives, Please!

I have recently begun a crusade to decrease high fiving in my immediate surroundings. Well, I guess it's not so much of a crusade as it is a firm stand against high fives. There are just too many being thrown around. I mean, come on people, do we really want to become a society (or ward) full of The Todd's? I think not.

Lest you think my decision to boycott is hasty and unfounded, allow me to share with you several experiences involving the high five. These stories come from the last month or so of my life and are in no way exaggerated. As most of these stories involve boys from the ward (and I have recently discovered there is at least one ward member reading my blog) I will refrain from using names to protect the innocent....NO! not the protect the innocent. These offenders are not innocent. They are guilty of inappropriate and excessive usage of the high five. In truth, it's to protect me; as much as I dislike the high five, I'm not doing this to create enemies. So, if any of these stories sound like you, take a hint, repent, and join my crusade.

1. Walking through the parking lot on my way home from school I spot a young man from the ward jogging toward me. I said hi and he raised his hand for the high five. I reluctantly reciprocated and was punished with a stinging hand for minutes afterward. Not okay.

2. One of my home teachers--I've had six in the last month--came up to me at a ward function and said "How's everything going in the house?" at the same time he raised his hand for the high five. What was that? Not okay.

3. This same offender can't even give an appropriate high five. It's a limp fish high five! It never occurred to me that such a thing were possible. Defnintely not okay.

4. I looked fabulous at church--I can't lie--and more than one guy commented that I looked good with an accompanying high five. Not okay, in fact the incorrectness and awkwardness of the high five neutralized the compliment.

5. The high five manifested itself at the beginning of a date. I can't believe that I need to tell people that this is NOT okay.

6. I shared my testimony in Sacrament Meeting and was thanked with a plethora of high fives. Uh, not okay.

The list could go on and on and on, but I will spare you the uncomfortable details. These incidents are, like I said, not okay. If you think any of this is normal, I feel sad for you.

In few, very rare situations a high five might be warranted. Although cheesy, it is acceptable in a sports setting. I have had one chief offender argue that a high five is appropriate after a really good joke or clever show of wit; I suppose I can tolerate that. I will not tolerate the high five as a greeting, accompanying a compliment, or in church. No. If, in a social situation a guy does not know how to interact with a girl, giving a high five will not make the situation less awkward, in fact in magnifies the awkwardness. In addition to taking a personal stand against the high five, I am doing this to try to help those sad souls realize that their prolific high fiving is only hurting themselves. Want some friends? Or a second date? Or a first date? Eliminate the high five!

Now, a final word. As I have spoken out against the high five, many an anxious soul has asked what I propose replacing the high five with. Sadly, they do not understand that the high five has not been around forever and has actually become a substitute for more appropriate, traditional greetings. Try a hug, a handshake, a pat on the back, or friendly touch on the arm. One guy jokingly suggested that we replace the high five with the butt slap. It might be a little strange, but go ahead and give it a try. I would REALLY like to introduce the besos of european and lating cultures. They are warm and friendly. I mean, who doesn't want a kiss on the cheek? I love the besos but realistically don't hold out hope that many will adopt the practice. What I do hope for is an eradication of the high five epidemic that is among us. Friends and countrymen, just say no!