how come nothing tastes good?

it's that paradox where you're absolutely starving

but nothing in the kitchen sounds good....

tomato juice season

for my birthday just before i moved to texas, jack gave me a book by elder holland called trusting Jesus. it's a collection of talks that he's given (the ones i recognize, anyway) and contains some of his best, including "cast not away therefore your confidence."

but it also has what i think has replaced elder maxwell's final talk as my new personal favorite. i initially heard "an high priest of good things to come" on a cd that jaime gave me two years ago and liked it then (there was also a talk on there by elder scott that stood out to me more at the time) but she reminded me of it a few weeks ago. even today i took a break from working on my sunday school lesson and pulled the book off of my shelf to read it again.

"an high priest of good things to come." that's not one of the more commonly used titles of the Savior, but it's fascinating to think about; that He is aware of the good things that will come in our lives. we will all go through our own struggles and disappointments, and that doesn't mean we've done anything wrong. but there's hope, and that is wonderful. as elder holland encourages near the close of the talk, "there is help and happiness ahead--lots of it".

walk unafraid.

explosion prevention

i was flipping through my senior year book a few days ago and saw this poem, written by one of my sister's friends. i think i appreciate it now more than i did in 1998. (i honestly don't know if the formatting was due to the eccentricity of the writer or the ineptitude of the yearbook staff. considering the parties involved, it could really be either option)

for those who express doubts about the ambiguity of the

word

i am filled with extreme apprehension

for i am

afraid of insincerity

and uneasy at the concept of a self-proclaimed artist

however

"artist"

he sits on his bed and cries through his pen

he screams with furious flurries of notes

(unfake)

he does these things

not because he wants to

or because he needs points on an assignment,

he does them because he has to

or he will explode

"artist"

by joshua clausen

aw, cannot get your ship out

driving home from institute and listening to the radio, i did what i always do when i hear a song that i knew the weird al version first: sang those lyrics over whatever the original's are (i've finally crossed over and actually learned the actual words to most michael jackson songs, but those are the exception.)

and while i still have no idea what lola is about, i did pause to think about what i was singing:

he said, luke stay away from the darker side
but if you start to go astray let the force be your guide

well said, master yoda.

big smile

it's been four years since i've been to the dentist, but yesterday the good doctor told me that my teeth were all healthy and strong.
i brush twice daily and, in the last year or so, floss semi-regularly.
it's little securities like this that give some stability in an otherwise unpredictable world.

brown coats

i've always preferred movies to television shows, because i can watch a movie in two hours and be done with it.
"that's precisely why i prefer a good series," said kirk when we were waiting for our table at a steakhouse in dallas a few months ago. "i get to spend so much more time with the characters i love." and i had to admit, he had a point there.

being home all week, i decided there would be no better time to pull that box set of firefly: the complete series off my shelf and give it a whirl. my brother had shown the pilot a few years ago when i let him host movie night (actually, i thought he showed two episodes, but nothing else looked familiar) and i remember thinking it was pretty good. like most things in entertainment, i'm pretty resistant to people endorsing things to me, even if i fully trust them.

two days later, i am now one of those people who knows that the mid-season cancellation of firefly makes it one of the great cinematic losses, alongside the full-length version of greed or murnau's four devils. i'll never get to fully understand why river said "nothing in the 'verse can stop me," and i'll be forever wondering what shepherd's real history is, or if simon would ever get the courage to ask out kaylee.

i've actually got a few connections to the show. i worked on a movie that starred adam baldwin, who played jayne, and i spent a week of my coldest work ever with david boyd, who was the series cinematographer (and a very cheerful guy.) plus, a pre-hsm zac efron played simon in a flashback, and he and i have spent some time together as well.

but that's not why i liked it. i liked it for all the reasons people love joss whedon (you may have heard of his most recent movie called the avengers), namely the post-modern genre-defying characters. but also for making both an "adventures of han solo" sci-fi story and a western at the time time. for making me genuinely laugh and for knowing only to expect the unexpected: evil henchmen talking as tough as they can, only be to kicked into a jet engine; a wife being forced to choose either the captain with whom she's been through countless battles or her husband and choosing her husband before the question's even finished being asked; and pretty much for everything about jayne and kaylee.
i could have done with less inara, although perhaps not quite in the way you might think.

i saw serentiy years ago when it was in the theaters, long before my brother moved in with me and began extolling the virtues of great but ill-fated tv series. i hardly remember a thing about it, which is fine, as seeing it with an understanding of what it is will be like seeing it anew anyway. so, there's that coda to look forward to. but now i'm nervous to think about what other great series there are out there than i'm missing and how much more time i have to start committing. firefly was only two days. that's just enough time to start getting attached.

konstantine

blast. the post i was trying to write for today just wasn't coming out right. i guess it needs to simmer a little while longer.

but i saw this and found it interesting. it's funny: there are people who could describe me on either side, here. i daresay that those who know me would say i'm an extrovert, but those who know me best might recognize numbers on the first list.

although the truth is that we're all more complicated than two different categories can neatly sum up.
but generalizations and categories are just so darn convenient.

harry potter or a hobo

as i've been churning out feeble storyboards for a project i'm working on, i've been breaking the commandments and coveting the amazing drawing talents of one of my friends. i wish i could draw like her. and so i figure i may as well at least let you in on her work.

on the right side of my blog here is my collection of other peoples' blogs that i read. when i first added that, there were only a handful: my brother's, my sister's, jack and natalie's, em's, and some ramblings and randomness. now, the list is substantially longer, including that guy who's (very slowly) reviewing every movie in the criterion collection and that girl who's really into unicorns.

but, nestled between all of those nice blogs where young mothers talk about the ups and downs of parenthood is one that i realize most of you probably have never bothered to check out (although, judging by jaime's recent post, she's discovered it....) it's called "verbal vomit." appealing, i know. it's also extremely funny. and amusing. and really kind of twisted and disturbing. ...not in a late-night-show-on-adult-swim kind of way, just... well, twisted and disturbing (but she's still a byu student, so you don't need to worry. much)

the site is drawn by my friend hannah. i met her at some party of kristin's a while ago (she facebook friended me, thank you very much), although i'd been hearing stories of her for a while. and i've been following her blog about as long as the rest of the internet has.

see, hannah's blog is what i'd dreamed this little island would become: so brilliant and funny that LOTS of people read it. she kind of exploded into popularity when she wrote a post about "hipsters." it "went viral", the dream of any internet author, and kristin recounted the story of her and hannah refreshing the blog and watching the number of followers continue to go up. i couldn't find a current count on her site, but i believe they said it topped off somewhere around 700.

to further put things into perspective, the original "how to be a hipster" post has 35,000+ likes. not "views", "likes." my entire blog barely has 32,000 visits, and a good percentage of those are from me checking back to see if the "dang" count on my recent post has moved from 1 to 2.

what i wouldn't give for
my work to look like this

as i said at the beginning, it's hannah's drawings that really bring her stories to life. she's a talented and well-training figure drawer(?), which is the foundation for all drawing and translates into well-proportioned characters of any sort. plus, her sense of humor is warped just enough (probably too much, actually) to really get the details of harry potter, more hipsters, harry potter, making fun of twilight, cow videos (not what you think, trust me), or even harry potter.

so, if you do happen to have some free time or are looking for something a little different, check out

• how to be a hipster part 1(this is her breakthrough)
• you's gonna die now
• the game has spoken (very funny but, um, yeah, you never, ever thought this is how harry would end up....)

her wedding invitation also looked amazing. artists....

jeffrey g.'s week off

i was told to take the week off from work and haven't regretted it. even better, i haven't been plagued by boredom. i've been slowing working on storyboards from a projects. they're taking me much longer than i planned because i'm not feeling well, i'm a pretty lousy artist, and the response delay on my ipad is just enough to make it tricky but not impractical. because i don't have any of the usual "i'm sick" symptoms like aches, congestion, and the like, it's easy to feel like i'm not sick and tell myself that i can stop acting like it to fool my mom. then i try to move and yes, it's very apparent that it is possible to be ill and not have a runny nose. i've watched a lot of movies this week, but nearly all of them have been "background" movies, since i've been trying to get those darn storyboards done (still have some ways to go on them.) so, no criterions this week, sadly. i've had friends willing to run to the store and pick up things that i've needed, which is mostly gatorade. my "so you've got mono" pamphlet told me to drink plenty of energy drinks and it's been helping. and while going out and about isn't impossible (i made the effort to go watch gene kelly dance last night), it is a real bugger of a nuisance and i've been genuinely grateful for the help. the grocery store also had blueberries on sale and so i've been eating them by the cup full, just like i did from the craft services table on 127. i've learned that even a 45-minute phone conversation can wear me out and am looking forward to getting back to firefly as soon as i publish this.

if you've seen one, you've seen them all

i'm not one to decry modern movies, claiming that they don't make good pictures anymore. every year produces films that remind me why i love the cinema so much.
but even though they still make good movies, they don't make 'em like they used to. and it's an absolute joy to be able to see the great ones on the big screen. i missed citizen kane earlier this summer, but i'm hoping to make it to north by northwest next week and i got to see singin' in the rain tonight.

it's the little things in life.

mano a mono

on the fourth of july i was frantically writing a long final paper that was due at 10:00 p.m. that evening. this is how you celebrate independence day when your america-loving texas university requires that teachers submit their grades by noon on july 5. i was feeling kind of achy but attributed it to sitting at my desk all day.

on thursday i was feeling weak and so made it a "low-key" day at work, keeping my door mostly closed, keeping my music quiet, and keeping to myself as i edited my video. friday was the same. as people would stop by, i'd explain that i wasn't feeling grouchy or antisocial, just mellow.

friday night, however, got bad. i woke up with terrible chills. hating the idea of leaving my meager-but-still-warm-ish bed, i weakly staggered to the living room to retrieve the warmest blanket i have. and, wrapped in both a blanket and down comforter, spent the next two hours shivering uncontrollably.

to break up the monotony, i started feeling extremely feverish as the sky was beginning to lighten. soon i was in the world of extremes only, where even having half a leg under a blanket was intolerably hot and leaving myself uncovered in any way felt like certain hypothermia. i feebly sang myself hymns as the only form of comfort i could come up with.

at some point in this delirium, i grabbed my ipad and downloaded the web md app. showing me a picture of a startled-looking naked human (neither male nor female), i was told to point where it hurt. since i couldn't just palm-mash the whole guy, i picked from a list. "chills," "fever," and "fatigue" were my symptoms (and was very grateful that "craving to eat ice, dirt, or paper" was not.)
based on this, my app gave me some of the following possibilities:

• lyme disease
• aseptic meningitis
• dengue fever
• cryptococcosis
• hepatitis (a or b)
• noroviruses (norwalk-like viruses) (jess! the norwalk!)

despite the fact that, from what i remembered of high school health classes, most of those could seriously kill me or mess me up big time, i was nonplussed. on saturday, a friend suggested that it sounded like the flu (which was another of web md's potential diagnoses.) i thought the flu included nausea and all that fun stuff, but apparently not necessarily. so, i spent saturday watching movies and thinking i had some flu variant. on sunday evening, though, when my symptoms hadn't really changed at all, my parents both encouraged me to see a doctor.

the student health center once told my friend that she might have cancer. she didn't. and so, with recommendations ranging from "yeah, they're fine" to "my mom almost died there," i showed up as a walk-in because they don't charge me a co-pay.

an older female doctor asked my symptoms, groped me up and down, and was especially impressed with how swollen the nodes in my throat had become (this was kind of a recent development, making me glad i waited until today to come in.) at the and of the exam, she said that it's likely mono.

hooray. i somehow got "the kissing disease." she explained that it can also come from drinking fountains, which is a much lamer way to get it.

still, i felt better. what little i knew of mono was that it just made you really tired, but that was it. it didn't sound disgusting like "lyme disease" or even any "disease" it all; it's just like getting turned down to "low" for a while. i was ok with having mono. i felt like a popular kid.

before she sent me down to the lab for some blood tests and a tonsil swab just to make sure it isn't strep throat, she handed me a pamphlet. the cover showed a male model trying to look as cool as vanilla ice himself, while the top had a row of diverse college-aged faces, all looking somewhere between stoic and stunned. "so you've got mono..." the title read, and i couldn't help but feel like i'd just contracted an std.

i remember hearing someone talk about how they had mono once and it knocked them out for months, but my thoughtful pamphlet explained that it usually lasts two weeks although it can go up to four or six. and it promised me "probably the worst sore throat you've ever had," so i've got that to look forward to.

despite my upfront reassurance that i was not in any way contagious through casual contact, both my bosses at work scolded me and sent me back home within an hour and a half, declaring that i should be resting. so, i'm considering taking tomorrow off.

tonight, though, i'm just wishing i had someone to kiss.

wake up

dear girl::

so, something's been bothering me lately and we need to talk about it.

it's this: life is pretty good right now.
not in the "i'm directing major car commercials in europe and just bought a second home in the bay area" way, but more of a "i love my job, am on track to have a better job than most of your ex-boyfriends (and, let's be honest; that one guy was going to be rich but he'd be gone 300+ days out of the year anyway), and have free time in the evenings that i should be spending with you" kind of way.

and i wish you were here.
heck, i'm not even wishing for us to be married so that we could say goodnight and stay together. but my roommates are more or less gone for a month; we'd have the whole house to ourselves to hang out and just do whatever we dang well feel like together. and with my class wrapping up on wednesday, there's plenty of time for a day trip to san antonio or to go through the whole lord of the rings trilogy (extended editions, naturally.)

so, what is it that you're doing that's better than being with me? are finishing up your graduate degree in boston? playing the wild lead guitarist for a band at a bar in indiana? (i'm less concerned about your past and more interested in our future...) maybe you're just down the road in some houston suburb, looking out your window at the same sky that i'm looking at.

until you get your act together, i'm doing what i can to make the best of my life on my own, but so far i haven't found anything that wouldn't be better with the two of us.

miss you,

-->jeff *

p.s. i'm going to see singin' in the rain in the theater next week. i wish you could come, because i know you love it, too (because, if you don't then i really can't see us working out. that's kind of a deal-breaker; sorry.)

a love story

my favorite cinematic romance since wall-e & e.v.e.

wes anderson's best since "the royal tenenbaums."

and a reminder of why i love to go to the movies.

if the year-end oscar season doesn't produce anything to top it, 

i'll be totally ok saying that "moonrise kingdom" is the best movie of 2012.

art review: jeff on jeff

one of our options for part of our final assignment in my m.f.a. class this spring was to write a review of our work from a third-person perspective. that sounded like it has potential, and when i thought back to the day in class when i showed the lipstick and mirror piece and how my professor and the visiting artist completely misinterpreted my intentions behind it, i decided to play with that.

a few years ago i read an interview with a director where the interviewer was going off about how freaking brilliant the director was how deep his work was and the director seemed disinterested with the heaps of praise, and so that became the inspiration for my writing: i created an interview between me and aRT Magazine, which was the most pretentious name i could think of.

i really like my professor and he's very much into dissecting a work and discussing the myriad of meanings that can be found therein. so i prefaced this to him that it wasn't an attack against the art critic world, merely having fun with the stereotypes. he loved it and asked for permission to share it (and also encouraged me to film it, with me playing both roles. that's an intriguing idea...)


I arrive early at the gallery, eager to talk with Jeff Gustafson, a film-maker turned fine artist about his newest exhibit. As a writer, it’s always a thrill to be the first to see these rising artists and to talk with them about the messages they have for the world. 
Gustafson arrives casually a few minutes after our planned time, dressed in sandals, mildly worn dark jeans, with a red shirt and plaid vest, a look perfectly fitting the creator of the works I’ve been studying.

aRT Magazine: It’s a pleasure to meet with an artist like yourself. Thank you for making time today. This is exciting.
Jeff Gustafson: You’re welcome.

a.M. Ok, before we get started, I just have to tell you how incredible this lipstick and mirror piece is. It’s insane. As soon as I saw it, I thought, this guy is feminism’s newest and greatest champion. Your ability to show how women are manipulated by society through the social constructions of so- called “beauty” and the whole prostitutionization that the cosmetics industry forces and women everywhere is just awesome. And that it’s on a mirror, so that you’re looking at yourself when you’re reading it! Wow. You are a freaking revolutionary here. I mean, your anger just shows in all of it. Laura Mulvey would go nuts for this.
J.G. Actually, I...

a.M. And is this your handwriting? Groundbreaking. You get it. You absolutely get it.
There’s no difference between men and women. A man can write in cursive in lipstick and, by extension, do anything that a woman can. And so can women. You are throwing down the societal constraints and declaring that total equality is now! You are the kind of artist this world needs!
J.G. I had a female friend write that.

a.M. Yes! You’re right! Women are completely manipulated by men in society! Even in
the art world. I’ve been seeing that for years and I’ve been telling people, someone
needs to fight against this. Someone needs to stop it now, you, wow, you did that!
You’re the liberator for women everywhere. The girls must love you! I bet you can get a
different girl every night! Unless you’re not into girls. I mean, that vest looks really good
on you and...
J.G. Don’t worry about it.

a.M. But these prints over here! I can’t believe at how much you’re able to say in two
feet by three feet! It’s like you’re rejecting that art even has content anymore! Art has
been meaningless for years, and by making this total glitch art, it’s like you’re the only
one who recognizes that and you’re telling the rest of the world to wake up. It’s over.
There’s nothing left to say and that’s exactly what you’re saying. These prints are
literally the final word in art! And that’s that word? Nothing! Because there’s nothing left
to say! You’re like the Pollock of the 21st century. Absolute genius. You know, I’ve got a
friend who’s got a gallery in New York and I know he would love to have these. I’ll give
you his number after this and you guys can talk.
J.G. Thanks.

a.M. And this canvas. It’s brilliant. I mean, it really makes you think, and that’s what I love about it. Because so much of art today doesn’t do that. You just look at it and it’s blatant and there’s no work involved but you, you demand that people work for your art. And what’s so brave about that is that most people won’t get it. They won’t figure it out. Only those who really understand aRT will get it. When I was waiting for you, I stared at this for at least half an hour. And I got it. I understood what it meant. And it’s amazing. It changed my life. I feel like I’m a different person now because of this message here. I don’t even know if I’ll want to have my old friends anymore, because they won’t get this.  It’s like you’re reclaiming pop art and making it fine art again. Because you’re totally right, art shouldn’t be for everyone. That’s what movies are for. If you don’t want to think, just go to the movie theater. This, this canvas code, this brings it back to the intellectual elite! And it’s time. It’s been time for a long time and you looked at society and said, “I don’t care, you don’t deserve this,” and took it back. Was that hard? Did this piece hurt to make? Or was the rage in you so strong that you couldn’t hold it back? Did you feel like you were saving a child from ravenous wolves, or was it more primal, like taking a woman and just having your way with her?

At this point, Gustafson looks at me in silence. It’s thrilling, the sort of connection that 
only happens between an artist and the person writing about their works, but also a little 
frightening, being in the presence of such revolutionary talent.
He looks around the room and straightens his vest.

J.G. What is lipstick on a mirror used for?
a.M. Telling someone you want to sleep with them.
J.G. For writing love notes. For taking the terrifying risk of telling someone how you
really feel about them, of knowing that you’ll likely get really hurt, but on the off chance it
does work, it’ll all be worth it.
a.M. That’s exactly what I get from it.

J.G. These prints over here. Digital images are made from code. Code is also how we
hide things in plain sight. So these images are direct presentations of some of my most
vulnerable moments. You’re staring right at it and yet it’s completely hidden.
a.M. And I absolutely feel that power when I look at it. It’s so brave yet so tender. You’re
a warrior-poet.

J.G. I bet. Thanks. And this canvas is that idea one step further. Now the actual letters
are there, completely in the open. Like a computer code, except that a human may actually be able to read it if they only knew the order. Once again, some of my most
vulnerable spots, letter-by-letter, right in front of you.

a.M. So many artists are total cowards and you are like a gladiator among them all!
J.G. That’s how I see it, too. Anyway, there’s a Buster Keaton festival going on down at
the Palace theater so I need to run. Good luck with your article.

shall i dance?

i've written about how i'm not really afraid of the gym any more. just yesterday i spent some time with the rec center's punching bag and didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about it. i took my first weight training class sometime during the middle of my undergrad career, so after ten years and three more classes, i got where i want to be, to where i can go into the weight room and know my way around.

now i'm working on my next awkward arena: the dance floor.
not the byu stake dance kind of stuff, but the real thing. i took "social dance" at byu in the fall of 2001 and was nervous and uncoordinated but did my best. i took tap during my senior year and got a C. i'd occasionally go to the swing dancing nights at the armory on 500 S. and would do alright for the evening, even if i did, um, make a mistake now and then.... and last fall i took country western on the suggestion of my sister: "if you're in texas, you may as well learn to country dance," which sounded reasonable, despite my aversion to all things "western."
and, excepting the few missteps here and there, i did pretty well in it.

my problem is the same thing that i'd have with weight lifting: i'd forget everything the moment the class ends. i learned some really cool jitterbug moves last fall and could hardly recall them just a few weeks ago. and, in my experience, that's not a very effective way to be on the dance floor. the moves need to come naturally. but, i've learned to snowboard and i can calculate the effects of focal lengths, f-stops, and shutter speeds on my camera as second nature now, so i see no reason why i can't conquer this, too.

it took me four weight training classes, and i'm signed up for social dance this fall, which will be my fourth dance class over a similar ten-year span. and i'm trying to start going to the dance nights around town (free lessons from 8-9:30) and hopefully that wall will finally crack, too. i don't want to win any contests, but to simply know enough that i'm comfortable out there.

mostly, it just looks like fun and i want in on that.

talking through cans and string

'k, i'll stop posting articles and stories from other people here soon. it's just that i've been busy with school and work and... well, that's mostly it. and while i had a growing list of things i want to write about, i like sharing the good stuff that i find, especially when i don't have time to write myself.

the great laurie jayne posted this on the facebook a few days ago and i dug it. there's a calvin and hobbes comic where calvin says to himself that he's happy. then he admits that he's happy, but not euphoric. then he gets depressed because he's not as happy as he could be.
same kind of idea.

the original article can be found here. i'm only posting it here as well because it makes it more likely to be read.

By AUGUSTEN BURROUGHS

"I just want to be happy."

I can't think of another phrase capable of causing more misery and permanent unhappiness. With the possible exception of, "Honey, I'm in love with your youngest sister."

Yet at first glance, it seems so guileless. Children just want to be happy. So do puppies. Happy seems like a healthy, normal desire. Like wanting to breathe fresh air or shop only at Whole Foods.

But "I just want to be happy" is a hole cut out of the floor and covered with a rug. Because once you say it, the implication is that you're not. The "I just want to be happy" bear trap is that until you define precisely, just exactly what "happy" is, you will never feel it. Whatever being happy means to you, it needs to be specific and also possible. When you have a blueprint for what happiness is, lay it over your life and see what you need to change so the images are more aligned.

Still, this recipe of defining happiness and fiddling with your life to get it will work for some people—but not for others. I am one of the others. I am not a happy person. There are things that do make me experience joy. But joy is a fleeting emotion, like a very long sneeze. A lot of the time what I feel is, interested. Or I feel melancholy. And I also frequently feel tenderness, annoyance, confusion, fear, hopelessness. It doesn't all add up to anything I would call happiness. But what I'm thinking is, is that so terrible?

I know a physicist who loves his work. People mistake his constant focus and thought with unhappiness. But he's not unhappy. He's busy. I bet when he dies, there will be a book on his chest. Happiness is a treadmill of a goal for people who are not happy by nature. Being an unhappy person does not mean you must be sad or dark. You can be interested, instead of happy. You can be fascinated instead of happy.

The barrier to this, of course, is that in our super-positive society, we have an unspoken zero-tolerance policy for negativity. Beneath the catchall umbrella of negativity is basically everything that isn't super-positive. Seriously, who among us is having a "Great!" day every day? Who feels "Terrific, thanks!" all the time?

Anger and negativity have their uses, too. Instead of trying to alleviate some of the uncomfortable and unpleasant emotions you feel by "trying to be positive," try being negative instead. Seriously, try it sometime. This will help you get in touch with how you actually feel: "I feel hopeless and fat and stupid. And like a failure for feeling this way. And trying to be positive and upbeat makes me feel angry and feeling angry makes me feel like I am broken."

If that's how you feel—however you feel—then you have a base line, you have established a real solid floor of reference. Sometimes just giving yourself permission to feel any emotion without judgment or censorship can lessen the intensity of those negative emotions. Almost like you're letting them out into the backyard to run around and get rid of some of that energy.

A corollary to the idea that we must all be happy and positive all the time is that we must all be "healed." When I was 32, somebody I loved died on a plastic-covered twin mattress at a Manhattan hospital. His death was not unexpected and I had prepared myself years in advance, as though studying for a degree. When he died, I was as stunned as if he had been killed by a grand piano falling from the top of a building. I was fully unprepared.

I did not know what to do with my physical self. It took me about a year to stop thinking, madly, I might somehow meet him in my sleep. Once I finally believed he was gone, I began the next stage: waiting. Waiting to heal. This lasted several years.

The truth about healing is that heal is a television word. Someone close to you dies? You will never heal. What will happen is, for the first few days, the people around you will touch your shoulder and this will startle you and remind you to breathe. You will feel as though you will soon be dead from natural causes; the weight of the grief will be physical and very nearly unbearable.

Eventually, you will shower and leave the house. Maybe in a year you will see a movie. And one day somebody will say something and it will cause you to laugh. And you will clamp your hand over your mouth because you laughed and that laugh will break your heart, it will feel like a betrayal. How can you laugh?

In time, to your friends, you will appear to have recovered from your loss. All that really happened, you'll think, is that the hole in the center of your life has narrowed just enough to be concealed by a laugh. And yet, you might feel a pressure for it to be true. You might feel that "enough" time has passed now, that the hole at the center of you should not be there at all.

But holes are interesting things. As it happens, we human beings are able to live just fine with many holes of many sizes and shapes. Pleasure, love, compassion, fulfillment; these things do not leak out of holes of any size. So we can be filled with holes and loss and wide expanses of unhealed geography—and we can also be excited by life and in love and content at the exact same moment.

This is among the oldest, deepest, most primal truths: The facts of life may be, at times, unbearably painful. But the core, the bones of life are generous beyond all reason or belief. Those things which ought to kill us do not. This should be taken as encouragement to continue.

The truth about healing is that you don't need to heal to be whole. And by whole, I mean damaged, missing pieces of who you were, your heart—missing what feels like some of your most important parts. And yet, not missing any part of you at all. Being, in truth, larger than you were before.

Human experience weighs more than human tissue.

—Adapted from "This Is How: Proven Aid in Overcoming Shyness, Molestation, Fatness, Spinsterhood, Grief, Disease, Lushery, Decrepitude & More. For Young and Old Alike," by Augusten Burroughs. To be published Tuesday by St. Martin's.

ride the waves and don't ask where they go

a handful of years ago, someone described to be a rather interesting way to deal with challenges:

imagine you're at the beach, playing in the water, and a wave starts coming. if you just stand there, either frozen in fear or trying to be tough and withstanding it, the wave will pick you up and carry you with it.
if you run from the wave, which is the natural and instinctual reaction, not only will it catch you and crash down on you, but it will have grown in size and force and so will really plow you into the sand.
but if you do the opposite of what seems natural and dive into the wave, you will likely be tossed a little with the turbulence of the water, but will avoid the crushing power that was coming right at you.

it's so crazy it just might work.

the best camera is the one you have in your hands

i was reading an article talking about how good photography has nothing to do with the quality of your camera or lens. it gave numerous examples of amazing shots that were taken on cell phones, $15 holgas, or with cameras deemed "broken." it then referenced this story as an example of thinking, if i just had that canon 24-105 l-series lens, then my pictures would be amazing. the truth is that a new lens by itself isn't going to make mediocre photography instantly better.

it's nothing new, but i wanted to share the story here.

Heading towards the station ... - 28/03/2008 10:09

Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long, long trip that almost spans the continent. We're traveling by passenger train, and out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hills, of biting winter and blazing summer and cavorting spring and docile fall.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. There sill be bands playing, and flags waving. And once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true. So many wishes will be fulfilled and so many pieces of our lives finally will be neatly fitted together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering ... waiting, waiting, waiting, for the station.

However, sooner or later we must realize there is no one station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. Translated it means, "When I'm 18, that will be it! When I buy a new 450 SL Mercedes Benz, that will be it! When I put the last kid through college, that will be it! When I have paid off the mortgage, that will be it! When I win a promotion, that will be it! When I reach the age of retirement, that will be it! I shall live happily ever after!"

Unfortunately, once we get it, then it disappears. The station somehow hides itself at the end of an endless track.

"Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. Rather, it is regret over yesterday or fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who would rob us of today.

So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot oftener, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more and cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.

(Found as published in Dear Abby, The Station, By Robert J. Hastings, fwd mail)

i think i'm getting better at living the lesson of this story in my life; i've still got plenty to learn, but i'm working at it.

the counterpoint, though is that better resources, in the right hands, do yield greater results, so i still would like to have that lens. but just because i don't have it doesn't mean i'm going to stop taking pictures until i'm holding it in my arms.
...um, i mean, hands.

home alone

my roommate left on a month-long trip yesterday. he's doing his doctoral research in seattle because... i think just because his professor is up there on some academic visit. at any rate, he won't be back until the middle of july.
another roommate is home in idaho for the summer. and my third roommate seems to live on mars.

so, at any rate, i've got the whole house to myself for a while.

living alone for me is no big deal. i did it for about seven months back at the red door, plus there would be plenty of times when i wouldn't see my roommate there for a while, depending on schedules or whatever else. heck, during the school year here, days will go by without me seeing anyone, since i (always) get up later and (often) come home (much) later than everyone else.

but my schedule is lighter in the summer, and when my class ends next week (yes!) then i'll really have time to be at home. and while i think i would go crazy if i permanently lived here by myself, it is really kind of nice to have the place to myself for a while.

the slight irony is that a lot of my friends are also out of town for the summer, but i'll figure out something.

3 speed

just over a year ago, i posted about a couple of quotes from president hinckley. i've been thinking about them recently and i just really like them, so i thought i'd share them again.

one of the great errors we are inclined to make when we are young is supposing that a person is a collection of qualities, and we add up the individual’s good and bad qualities, like a bookkeeper working on debits and credits.

if the balance is favorable, we may decide to enter (into marriage) … the world is full of unhappy men and women who married because … it seemed to be a good investment.

love, however, is not an investment; it is an adventure. and when marriage turns out to be as dull and comfortable as a good investment, the dissatisfied partner soon turns elsewhere …

ignorant people are always saying, ‘i wonder what he sees in her [or him],’ not realizing that what he [or she] sees in her [or him] (and what no one else can see) is the secret essence of love.

and

it was you who felt that there was no one else in all the world quite like her. it was you who wished to have her forever.

sources can be found on my original post.