Closing the book...for now.

So, hopefully this blog still uploads to Facebook...having not posted on it in forever I'm not really sure, and since I'm still on a Facebook Fast I can't really check to make sure: which brings me to the point of this blog that should upload to the infamous site. This week without Facebook, has, to my surprise, been quite exhilarating. I'm spending so much less time on the Internet than I used to, and thus am accomplishing a whole lot more. Plus, it's nice to not feel like I have to know everything about what everyone is doing, and they don't have to know everything about what I'm doing...I would highly suggest that all of you try this and see how it works for you...I've found it quite beneficial. Anyway, hopefully Facebook posts this before tomorrow, because my fast was meant to end on Tuesday at 5:00...however, I have decided to continue it for an indefinite period...maybe another week...maybe the rest of the month...longer...who knows? So, again, if you want to get a hold of me or need to tell me anything, you'll have to go with some of the more archaic forms of interpersonal contact.

Blake

An idea for Christopher Nolan

So, I recently heard the idea to "relaunch" Spider-man in film....really? Wasn't once enough? In fact, once might have even been too much. Isn't there some law out there that prohibits films from being relaunched before a certain number of years? It is moments like these that I ask myself when Christopher Nolan is going to wow us again with another Batman movie. Now, I can be patient...I'm not asking for it right now. Honestly, it makes me happy he's taking so long. This proves he's going to take his time to create another Batman movie and not succumb to commercialism and put out some horrid installment that would cause us all to lose faith in him. After The Dark Knight, I wouldn't expect anything less than a few or even several years to create a film that even equals The Dark Knight. Perhaps one of the saddest setbacks and perhaps the most obvious reason why more time will be needed is the untimely passing of Heath Ledger. Were he still with us, another Batman/Joker film may not have taken so long. Thus, it seems that the most bearing question of the whole process is who is our next villain? Moreover, who do we find to play said villain in a way that doesn't simply make us miss Ledger even more? Now, while in Brazil, one of my mission companions and I (Elder Olsen, I must give you fair credit here) worked out a pretty awesome idea for a script. Perhaps it isn't as cool as we thought it was, which is why I'm posting it in a blog to see if anyone agrees with me. So...our new principal villain is, (as many have already suggested) The Riddler. See, the Gotham Police Department is now hell-bent on catching the Batman, convinced that the demise of their beloved Harvey Dent and others is his fault. Commissioner Gordon is, of course, just playing along, being one of the few individuals who knows the truth. Well, someone in the police department (or perhaps even the new District Attorney?) gets this idea to bring in a criminology specialist to help identify who the Caped Crusader is - enter Edward Nigma. He agrees, for a very large sum of money, (against Gordon's wishes, who thinks Nigma is far too unorthodox) to research all known evidence of the Batman and attempt to expose him. Thus begins an interesting game of cat-and-mouse between Nigma and Bruce Wayne, with Nigma's findings and deductions pointing him ever-increasingly to Wayne as his prime suspect. However, in order for him to be sure, he needs to actually see the Batman in action. So, unbeknownst to Gotham police, he creates his alter-ego "The Riddler," who rather than working with the local mafia or causing chaos, is a taunting, note-leaving, mind-messing serial killer. His hits could even be imitations of the murders of Wayne's parents...all in an attempt to force Batman to reveal himself...or to drive him mad. And, of course, after sometime of using this alter-ego as his means of getting inside Bruce Wayne's head, Nigma pulls an Arthur Dimmesdale and begins to fuzz the separation between his two personalities...perhaps even going mad himself and developing a Jekyll and Hyde complex. Now obviously this is a really rough idea; many of the details would have to be ironed-out...but I think a psychological, "Silence of the Lambs"-type feel would do really well. So, if someone forced me to come up with a plot for a Batman movie, there's my basic idea (thank you, Elder Olsen). But, seeing as how that is highly unlikely to happen, I guess I'll have to see what Hollywood comes up with. (Unless any of you happen to know Christopher Nolan...)

Gifts

"These gifts are quite dazzling" says the busty Martha May Whovier. Suddenly, the tension is broken by the grating sound of a crusty fingernail stripping against the shiny finish of the new car. Now with everyone's attention, the bitter Grinch replies, "Of course, they are. That's what it's all about isn't it? That's what it's always been about! Gifts...gifts...gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts!" With my first Christmas Eve home having begun just six minutes ago, I sit here and contemplate those words of the Mean One. Though said in cynical criticism (or critical cynicism, whichever you prefer), I believe there is some truth to those words. Indeed, why is it that gifts are such a central part of the Christmas season? Many of the traditions vary. Some gather at large parties on Christmas Eve, while others stay at home, comfortable being with just their own family. Some have massive feasts following Christmas morn, while others, not wanting anyone overburdened with the task of a such a meal, settle for something much simpler. There are some families that always give their children pajamas as their first gift just before bed on Christmas Eve, and others don't. Some make wassail, and others don't. Some even leave home completely, and use the holiday season as a time for a family vacation. Yet, though each have their own traditions, unique or otherwise, there is one that seems almost universal: The giving of gifts. Be they expensive and extravagant, or meager and modest, gifts are the one constant in all of our traditions. We give gifts to family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, fellow churchgoers, teachers, employers, and the list continues. Even in families unable to provide gifts to their children, there is the hope of gifts. Some of the largest charity efforts during the holidays strive to ensure that every child will at least one special gift on Christmas Day. Why all this emphasis on gifts? If you were to ask what the first gifts of Christmas were, many would say what they've learned since they were a child: frankincense, gold, and myrrh, brought by the wise men of the East to the Holy Infant. Had you asked me that question a few years ago, I may have given the same response. Now, however, I see that the question is not what were the first gifts of Christmas, but rather, what was the first gift of Christmas. It wasn't anything you can put in a box. It wasn't anything you can get a discount on. In fact, it wasn't a thing at all. The reason behind gifts is the reason behind Christmas itself. The first gift of Christmas was given by a loving Father to His children, a gift that would change their lives forever. For without this gift, these children would never find their way home. Without this gift, they would never become more than what they were. Without this gift, there would never have been hope for them, and they would have wandered in darkness forever.

It truly was the greatest gift ever given - none can compare to it. Because of that gift, we are not lost or alone. Because of that gift, we are boundless and capable of an extraordinary potential. Because of that gift, we know how to live, how to love, and how to shine a light in a world full of darkness. Because of that gift, we can see our way home. Why gifts? Christmas started because of a gift, an Eternal Gift. In each unwrapped toy, in each filled stocking, and in each present we either give or receive, may we all remember what each and every one truly represents: the gift of our Lord Jesus Christ to us, from our Heavenly Father.

I know that Gift is real. I know that through that Gift, we can find true and lasting happiness. I know that Gift is the fount of any real love we ever experience and the source of all that is good and right in this world. I know that miracles happen, even today, by the power of that Gift. Above all, I know that He lives. He loves us, He believes in us, and He will never leave us. He lives, and that is worth everything.

Being the starving college student that I am, I felt saddened at my inability to give to many who I love and care for...I hope each of them (you know who you are) will receive this message of mine as the best gift I could possibly give, for it is by far my most valuable possession.

Merry Christmas!
From: Blake

The Reason Why

We might as well face it - sometimes life just plainly sucks. It may be through no fault of our own...in fact, the worst can be when it isn't. In times such as these, it is almost certain that somewhere in me will come the voice screaming that enigmatic question - why? Why me? Why do I have to go through this? Why did this happen to me? Why not him? Why not her? What purpose does it serve? What's the point? Why-why-why? At times, the frustration can reach the point where one wants to do nothing more than drop to their knees, lift their heads to the sky and scream, "Why?" Now, if you're a religious person, you probably have the belief that all will work for your good and that God is aware of everything and has purpose behind everything. Now, not to disparage anyone's faith, (including mine) but sometimes that just doesn't seem enough. When life sucks, you crave something more than that. You want a concrete reason, a sensible answer. We really become much like the little child who has been denied a request from his parents. The first word out of his mouth is "why?" We all remember the frustration when our parents would give that irritating and unnerving answer, "because." Our little minds exploded with fury. Why can't you tell me? You obviously have some reason behind your answer, what is it? Why don't you think I'll understand? (I still cringe to think of it.) Yet, for all our maturing and growing up, we are still such creatures at times in our relation to God. We seek reasons to our trials and difficulties, and sometimes the answer that comes seems to resonate with the infamous "because." It drives us mad. We want to know! And we want to know now! Why can't you tell me? There must be a reason for this, what is it? Don't you think I'll understand? Thus, we feel left to ourselves, battling to find in ourselves some answer to the question - why?
It was during my time in Brazil that I learned something that I should never forget, though unfortunately I do at times. For it was there in the 100+ degree heat with 80 percent humidity that at last I began to see the reason why. Not to what I was facing at the time, however. Rather the difficulties of years past, some nearly five years before the fact, began to lift from the fog of confusion and senselessness. I could understand why so much that had happened to me so long ago had happened. I was given the answer, but years after it had ended. Just like a little child, it may take years for us to understand why our parents would deny our petitions at times. So too, it may take time for us to recognize why we face what we face. It may well be that we can't face the answer when we're still embroiled in whatever the problem is. Perhaps it would make no sense, or still not be enough. Perhaps time is the only thing that brings understanding. The point, however, is that the answer does come...in any situation, with any difficulty, anytime, anywhere...but the answer is always something we must wait for. Patiently, we must wait until time allows us to understand what we always should have.

A Moment

A moment...such a small amount of time, practically imperceptible. Yet how much can change in that space of time? Sometimes the entire world around us can become completely different than what it was. What we feared we suddenly seek. What we loved feels unneeded and distant. We thought we knew ourselves; now we know we don't. Something didn't make sense, now it does. All within a moment...a moment changing everything. The cruelty of it is there's no warning, no foreseen sign to hint that such a moment is coming. You wake up on another standard Wednesday, the sun is shining, you still have some milk in your fridge, and all seems to be as it always was. By the time that seemingly standard Wednesday is over, however, you wonder if Thursday will come. How can it, when the world as you knew seems to have ended? How can another day start when a moment of this day has brought time to a screeching halt? The moments blindside you, smacking you on the head in the same fashion as a thug in a dark alley with a 2X4. With the stars still in your eyes from the blow, you desperately try to find your footing before you collapse to the floor. As cruel as it may be, however, the world does not stop. The dizzy feeling goes away, you're still alive, and life will go on tomorrow. A moment may change everything, but that doesn't mean it has to change you.

The Weatherman is not God

I have a bone to pick with humanity. Well, maybe not humanity, but certainly the humanity that surrounds me in the SUU world. I realize that there are individuals in the world who choose to pursue careers in meteorology. I also recognize that those individuals spend years in college learning all about the atmosphere, clouds, and other such weather sciences. However, I don't care how many years you have studied such subjects...when you graduate as a meteorologist you are not endowed with an infallible and omniscient knowledge of the winds and rains. Nor do you acquire a mystical power over the sun and clouds. I am sure most meteorologists recognize this. What concerns me is that no one else seems to grasp this concept. All yesterday, I easily heard ten times in the space of an hour, (no, I am not exaggerating) "It's supposed to snow today." "It's going to snow today." "It will snow today." Has anyone ever heard the idea that perception becomes reality? Have we ever stopped to consider that maybe if we didn't so readily accept what we hear on the 6:00 news it may not actually happen? But of course, with everyone already assuming that the weatherman is a magical being with superhuman powers and cannot be wrong, it did snow. Why shouldn't it? Only maybe a handful of people refused to accept it (myself included). What is infuriating is that in any other field of science we are willing to admit a level of uncertainty. For instance, how many tear-jerking stories have we heard of the person told he will never walk again...yet he does? No one could predict the next disastrous earthquake the way we do the next rainfall. I'm sure the most intelligent people on Earth are willing to admit that they can't possibly guarantee what the future holds. History itself shows that meteorologists are as prone to error as anyone. I apologize to those not of a Christian background, but I'm sure the weatherman of Galilee did not predict that the violent storm on the sea would abruptly halt without explanation. Nor did the meteorologist of Sodom and Gomorrah predict heavy showers of fire and brimstone. Yet, nearly everyone seems to accept the pronouncements of weathermen like prophetic visions of the apocalypse. Even worse, by admitting that what they say is an inevitable future, it almost gives the impression that meteorologists control the weather. I for one refuse to believe so. First of all, no one is perfect, even a weatherman. Moreover, I am a big believer in the power of belief. Speaking of imperfect science, there are those that are even uncertain about all the capacities of the human mind. There's even a field of science that researches if the human mind is capable of controlling its environment through mental exertion. I could totally accept the idea that hidden in the other 90 percent of my brain that I don't use there's the power to alter the world around me. So, the next time the weatherman predicts a huge snowstorm or whatnot, instead of allowing him and nature to dictate what is reality, why not refuse to obey them and force them to obey you? Instead of saying, "It's going to snow today and that is for certain because the weatherman said so and everyone knows that he is an infallible deity and there is nothing that I can do to change the circumstance if I wanted to, so I choose to submit my life to a man with a masters in meteorology," why not say, "the weatherman said there's a chance of snow today, but I think he could be wrong. In fact, I hope he's wrong, I want him to be wrong, he is wrong!" Refuse to let the weatherman rule your environment! Defy the learned and wise with the power of human perception! Above all else, remember this: THE WEATHERMAN IS NOT GOD!!!

The Right Words (At the Right Time)

I imagine everyone at some point in life has experienced what I am about to describe. I hope so, at least. There are moments in life, or days, or weeks, or months, or even years (Friends theme cue please) that just don't seem right. "Right," I realize, is a very vague term, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. You're not necessarily sad, or angry, or depressed, though those things may all be part of it. The true feeling though is that there's a hole somewhere that you need to fill. It's an anxiety that something is missing. I suppose we could liken it to that frustration when you can't find your keys at 5:00 in the morning and you have the distinct impression that someone, somewhere in the world is laughing at you. Or like the one day you come to class unprepared and it's the one day of the whole semester that your professor decides to check your notebooks. You sit in stewing rage as the slacker next to you whips out his notebook full of notes that he hastily threw together in the three minutes before class on the off-chance they'd be called for today. Whereas you, who possesses a notebook full of meticulous and detailed notes of every word that has fallen from the professor's mouth including his hometown and family history, will receive a failing grade on the notebook check because your notebook is on the floor of your room, open to where you fell asleep writing in it the night before after accomplishing the fifty other things you had to do that day. Do you know that feeling? Have you ever felt that way about life in general? It's maybe not as urgent, but it is more unnerving than any forgotten notes. What experience has told me is that most of us reach this point. However, that is not what I wanted to write about, (though it's taken me a good deal of lines to get to my point) nor is that the experience I hope everyone has had. Rather, I wish to delve into the most common antidote I have seen for this emptiness. It can come from anywhere; in fact, in my life it usually comes from the most unlikely of sources. Though its effects may not be permanent, it is enough for one to temporarily fill that gaping hole, whatever it may be. I'm talking about the right words at the right time. Now, what those words are, and when that time is depends completely on you. But I think you know what I mean when I tell of those moments when someone in our lives, or even a complete stranger, says that one thing - that beautifully simple and yet perfect scrap of human wisdom - at the time when our ears are most tuned to hear it. That moment seems to cure that empty, hollow feeling. It is as if the giver of such words has been granted to be the possessor of the secret of life for that one moment, the sole purpose being to pass that secret in a way that is shaped, drawn, and packaged especially for us. The words would mean nothing to anyone else; outside of that perfect moment, they'd probably mean nothing to us. Yet, the words come, the hunger is fed, and we can carry on with life until we become again famished for want of this human food. Not only do I think we all have moments to be fed by the words of others, but each of us has our moments when we are the givers of those right words. What's funny is that we probably do not even recognize that we have done so. Who knows how many hungry people we have fed with the words we have said? When have we held the secret to another's life in our lips without our knowledge? Whose life is better because of a few simple and costless words? Why am I an English major? Because I believe that words can change the world...they already have. And if we want to change the world, for better or worse, we have few other means to do so than in the words we choose to pass on.