I'm tired. I'm tired of not being shocked by atrocities. I'm tired of violence and death in ever greater numbers becoming routine. I'm tired of hearing about people being killed because some stranger was trying to make a point, serve a cause, or just earn some notoriety.

I don't know what I can do personally about it, except to express my love for humanity. Black, white, straight, gay, whatever you may be, whether I belong to your race, agree with your lifestyle, know you, or don't know you. I love you. I think that you have value. I know that you have your own beautifully complex life with your likes, dislikes, goals, loves, and trials. May we all somehow make it through this journey we call life, finding happiness where we can, and enduring heartache where we must.

If you are enduring heartache right now, please know you aren't alone.

I love you.

Living Room

This is my pretty blog. It's like my mom's living room. Kept in good shape, ready for guests, and the debris of my life tucked safely out of view.

The problem that I've realized is that a living room does not a house make. Nope, what makes a house is the bedroom (though some would probably say that kitchen trumps bedroom, I disagree.) If you are one of those neat and tidy people maybe your bedroom looks just like your living room (clean) with the exception that there is a bed in it instead of a couch and love seat set.

I am not one of those people. My bedroom looks nothing like my mom's living room. Sometime the mess gets to even me and I spend a few hours getting it clean enough that I can start getting it properly dirty again, but most of the time my room is in a delightful state of chaos.

But I'm okay with that. My bedroom is mine. It's the place where I can run and shut myself in when life gets overwhelming (all too often), and the place where I can lounge in my underwear if I so choose without inflicting that sight on anyone else in the world.

This blog is not like that. This blog is like the living room, for the guest, not for me. My facebook is also for the guest instead of for me (although thankfully, unlike my facebook pag, my parents haven't found this so they can let me know whenever anything that I post or write might be inappropriate or offensive in any way shape or form to anyone.) I don't post controversial things, I try not to yank any chains, or post passive aggressive comments, or depressing song lyrics with no context which will make people think I want to kill myself.

I have a wonderful friend who recently showed me their blog, and it was a bedroom, no question about it. Reposts of stills and gifs from a favorite tv show, short spur of the moment posts, and rants with language that would make a sailor blush.

I'm jealous. I have lots of rants and tonight in particular it would be satisfying to let fly. But I'm not going to, because this isn't a bedroom.

Instead you get a tidied up pseudo-philosophical stream of consciousness about internet bedrooms.

@%&# it.

Divorce

Apparently, it's been a year and some change since I've last posted anything to this blog, and longer than that since I've posted anything of substance. It looks like my last real post was along the lines of looking for the motivation that would allow myself to to support myself and my wife as we started a family.

Oh how much can change in a year.

Divorce.

It's an ugly word, especially to Mormons that believe that if they do everything according "to plan" that a happy successful family is guaranteed and insured by God. I certainly felt that way; I got baptized, got the priesthood, went on a mission, and got married in the temple. Then, I got a divorce.

"Excuse me God but I'd like for you to review this certificate of authenticity..."
...
"Exactly, I knew that there must be some mistake so can you please get on that immediately."
...
"Okay, I'll go see Gabriel in customer service and we'll get that straightened out."

Sadly, it was not to be and the reality is divorce.

We Mormons have an interesting relationship with divorce. As I was beginning this terrible process and moving home my social life became nearly non-existant. I'd been married for two years so I didn't have too many single friends and I didn't see the married friends that I'd spent the most times with because I was too busy being a broken recluse living in my parents house. When I did see them though we'd have our brief conversations that were awkward and ended quickly, and I would be haunted by the look in their eyes that practically screamed "You are a living embodiment of the worst failure I fear in this life."


I felt judged, all the time. I felt like a failure in more ways than one. After all, we have these wonderful gospel gems like this one to provide support and reassurance to us in these trying times.

"No other success can compensate for failure in the home."

         - David O. McKay

I do not want to beat a dead horse, and I couldn't begin to describe this to the point of understanding without giving the appearance of beating said dead horse so allow me to just say: The emotional, spiritual, psychological, and even physical trauma of divorce is more pain than I ever thought I would be called on to bear, and more pain than I thought myself capable of bearing.

My lowest point came one evening a couple of weeks after the separation. I was taking a shower and behind the safety of the locked door and under cover of the sound of the running water I let myself cry. I was crying a lot over these months , all the time actually, so I really ought to say I let myself sob. So I am standing in the shower sobbing my guts out and I am so emotionally exhausted that I am physically overwhelmed and collapse into a sobbing heap on the floor of the bathtub. I lie there as the hot water runs out and I'm being sprayed with icy cold water and don't give a damn. In fact, as I think back, beyond somehow cerebrally knowing that the water was cold and probably uncomfortable I was too numb and lost in my pain to care.

Now, I suppose some of you (if there are any of you) reading this may be wondering why I'm telling you this. Maybe it's because I think that divorce is a reality that is conveniently ignored (for the most part) in the church and thus the people unfortunate enough to have to go through it are left relatively lost and unsupported in what is very possibly their time of greatest need. Maybe it's because I've heard some of the rumors about me, and the speculation on the underlying reasons for my divorce. Without exception, the rumors and speculation were wildly off base and hurtful. Another reason is that this is part of me trying to come to terms with an event that has impacted my life permanent way.

More thoughts later, maybe in another year.

Teaser

I think I may have something profound in the works. At least, that's possible. Or it's possibly profound.

Motivation

If you ever want to make fun of actors all you do is walk up to someone and say in as serious a voice as you can muster (plus a British accent helps) "What's my motivation?"

I have recently taken to thinking quite often to myself (in a British accent) "Where's my motivation?" I know What my motivation is. It's that I'm a young newlywed trying to get decent grades and work in a job so that I can support my family now and in the future. I know exactly what my motivation is. I just seem to have misplaced it.

The other day I got up at 6:00 a.m. to finish some Spanish homework that I'd left off the night before because I'd simply been too exhausted for rational thought. Sounds motivated right, getting up early, rising against the forces of gravity and momentum in order actually get oneself out of bed and start the day.

Well, I did those things. I was motivated. Then I sat on the couch with my laptop open on my lap for two hours staring at the Spanish homework on the screen. NOTE: I was not perusing facebook, or other things. I was simply sitting and staring. This seems to be happening to me quite often as of late. I find it distressing, and when I look at my grades I find it more distressing.

Perhaps I'm exhausted from the fact that I have class from nine to noon everyday, followed by work from twelve thirty to five followed by homework.

Of course, one contributing factor I believe was that for the two months at the beginning of the semester I would come home from work at five and then go to rehearsal from six to eleven. I was simply exhausted. I still am. I'm not even taking a heavy class schedule. I think that this is the lightest course load I've ever had. That does not bode well.

Anyway, more on that later. But if you see my motivation anywhere, let me know.

The Wind

I believe that we as human beings live in the middle of a hurricane. Not a great physical hurricane taking place in the cosmos or even one of those minor ones that has a habit of destroying the Florida Keys every few years. I think we're talking about a hurricane of instability.

Fortunately though, I said we're in the middle of the hurricane, and as we all know from 4th grade science (or the movie The Perfect Storm) That's where the eye of the hurricane is. A place of relative peace sheltered from the winds of uncertainty. Where as long as we keep pace with the hurricane and move in the direction that it's moving you can feel a modicum of predictability

Out There amidst the shrieking winds and roiling waters are all of those things that we don't know about and can't approach for certain and can't predict. Out there is the untamed wild.

Did you know that the Wright brothers made 4 flights in their original flyer? They also made them within the space of a few days of eachother. What kind of weather do you think they flew in? If it were me I'd have waited for a calm summer day before trying to test out the first ever flying machine. No, they made the first flight in December of 1903. A very cold day in North Carolina and they did it by flying their airplane into freezing wind that was gusting at around 25 mph.

They flew directly into the wind and achieved flight. It's interesting to note that that legacy carries on today. To conduct flight operations an Air Craft Carrier will increase it's speed and turn into the wind before launching its airplanes. Moving into the wind and away from the calm was and is the only way you can make them fly.

Why, in life, are we so concerned with staying in the eye of the storm. Why don't we brave the winds? Why don't we make sudden changes? I don't know, I wouldn't be posting this if I did know. Maybe you do, will you share?

You know what I realized as I was writing this? When you are moving in the eye of the storm it may be stable, but there are clouds on every side. Only when you brave the winds and fly will you break out of the storm and see the sunset.

An Update!

Bet that caught you by surprise, didn't it?