Thank You and Adieu

Well this is it. I’m off to Korea for two years. Pinch me.

I’m terrified to be honest. I feel like I will be a good missionary. I know I can be a good teacher and I’m genuinely committed to making a difference and helping people. But the adjustment into missionary life is going to be a doozy from someone like me that likes to stay up into the wee hours of the morning and bend rules. I’m also sort of terrified that I’m going to go into some sort of Naruto withdrawal coma, so thanks Em J. The scariest part though is the language. Learning Korean in two months is going be rough for a guy who struggles far too much with the nouns of the English language.

But I’ll survive it somehow. As evidenced by my ability to type this post almost twenty years after birth, I always do. And I’ll come out stronger for it.

Also probably a little bit fatter. Thanks to my papa, I’m now aware that I love Asian food, including kimchi. Maybe I’ll get a job at the Happy Sumo when I get back.

This last month since college seemed to drag on until now. I got back with more than a month to kill before I left. Sure there was prep, but not a month’s worth. So in between the weeding, Naruto, and stressing over my talk I was able to say my goodbyes to a crowd of great people.

Thank you all.

Thank you to my cousin who came to support me at every opportunity and went to the temple with me.

Thank you to my Great Uncle and Aunt who treat me like one of their grandkids and reminisced with me about a trip to paradise.

Thank you to my neighbor who keeps cranking out my favorite of bar-shaped snacks for me.

Thank you to my Papa for letting me work on your farm with you and showing me the joys of Asian cuisine.

Thank you to my Grandparents who helped me get equipped for the trip and always made time for me.

Thank you to my friend who found time to go to the temple and get a snow cone with me.

Thank you to my high school bros for the Star Trek and Super Smash night. You guys are all going to be awesome missionaries and I don’t say that about just everyone.

Thank you to my college bros who slew many a zombie with me and helped me discover many a great name for Creed cover bands. See you at Star Wars, gents.

Thank you to one of my newest best friends who makes me laugh and keeps me culturally enlightened.

Thank you little sis, for trusting me and talking the night away to the sky with me.

Thank you to my friend who, without real effort, always has my back and always smiles. Good luck on your mission, should you not be married before that.

Thank you to one of my college friends who helped me through one of the darkest times in my life in addition to recognizing the awesomeness that is Sherlock.

Thank you to my friend who thinks deep and has the most interesting of conversations with me when she isn’t turning light into art. Good luck catching up on all the movie homework I dropped on you and stay incredible.

Thank you to my brothers. I’ve loved getting to spend so much time with you this last month.

And thank you to my parents. My dad who is always there for me and takes care of me no matter how tough the situation. My mom who agrees to disagree with me on nearly everything, but loves me enough to talk through it anyway. Thank you guys for all your help and support.

Well, I guess it’s time to find out if blogs automatically are deleted after a while. I wish all of you guys nothing but the best and I can’t wait to see you again.

I love you all more than you may suspect. No, that sounds creepy. You know what I mean. Words, right?

Whitlock out.

Illumination

Even though you may not realize it and I may not be perfect at it, since I was fourteen I've been dedicated to rooting out darkness and bringing light back into the world, in whatever way that I can.

The tricky part about that is how at ease I am in the dark.

I come from a good background, but, through my own faults, I've seen a darker side of reality. A lot of people don't know this, but back when I was a kid a good part of the reason we moved to Utah was because of how bad things got for me in Arizona. I've struggled with depression in and out for years. I've lost loved ones to the grave and I've lost friends to life. I've helped people through their darkest moments when they needed a friend most.

After a while, I guess I got comfortable with it. With myself really, because the darkest things I've had to face have come from inside me. For those of you who really know Josh today, you know a guy who is comfortable, but not satisfied, with who he is.

As I realized in my poem a few months ago, I belong in the dark. I was made for it. But not to bask in it or to feed on it, but to keep it at bay.

My method of fighting for a better world up to this point has involved wading into the dark and swallowing it while keeping my darkness at bay and my light flickering onward.

The problem is that that isn't good enough anymore.

See, there are two ways of fighting for the light. You can do what I've done or you can be a conduit for light yourself. Rather than keeping the darkness at bay, you can give light and drive it away.

That is by far the better approach. The trick is that it also requires much more of you, or, at least, of me.

I belong in the dark, but now I need to find some way to make myself a conduit for the light. Instead of caging my darkness I have to expel it. Instead of keeping my light alive, I have to feed it and let it grow.

Actually, that isn't true. I have to learn to channel the goodness and grace of Jesus Christ much better than I have been doing. Because, when it comes down to it, I am not capable of lighting the darkness on my own. I'm not bright enough. I need him. The people of Korea need him. Not me.

I'm standing at the precipice of a deep plunge into the deep. The only comfort I take comes from the story of the Brother of Jared. To bring light to the darkness of the depths of the sea, the Lord touched stones that had been molten and shaped until they were pure and clear. Originally, they were just rocks, but through pressure and heat they came to be pure enough that the light from Christ could shine through them and bring light to the depths of the dark sea.

I am not yet one of those rocks, but, God willing, I intend to be.

My necklace has more than just a symbol of Jesus Christ on it. Every day when I put it on, I am directed to John 8:12. "Then spake Jesus unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."

It's time to earn that.

"Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself." - Victor Frankl

I Used to Play Bass For...

For the last semester me and my roommates have been running a joke introduced to us by the great Jacob Mikulecky. Jokes die when you explain them, but since none of you will ever hear me make enough of these to make the connection I'll kill the joke anyways hoping that you can gain some small satisfaction from its corpse.

The concept is that when we hear something come up in our usual conversation that sounds like it could be a band name we say that we used to play bass for such and such. We play bass because no one really knows who plays bass for any given band. Most fans can name a lead singer or a guitarist, but the bassists will remain as anonymous as rabbis (wait for it). The vast majority of names we throw out are complete garbage. Each proposed name, much like any of our other jokes, gets an instant rating from one to ten with only eights and above considered to be worthy of remembrance. Additionally, if someone goes out of their way to set their joke up or they have created it in advance, then it, like Loquacious Donkey, is thrown straight to Hell.

Now before I give you the list you need to know that each of these bands is imagined opening up for Creed. They are Creed cover bands. Because no one opens for Creed.

I, Josh Whitlock, do solemnly swear and affirm that all of these came up in actual conversation.

Josh Whitlock, Jacob Mikulecky, Sir Billiam von Honey, Easton Johnson, or Evan Sorenson used to play bass for:

Wives and Concubines
Widow's Peak
Soldier of Fortune
Rabbis Anonymous
Childbearing Hips
Historical Douchebags
Almost a Hug
Alzheimers and Priestcraft
Six Pack for Grandpa
Gratuitous Nudity
Son of the Nun
Burning Apathy
Flaming Racist
Ninjas and Trebuchets (watch the Scorpion King 3: Battle for Redemption)
Perversion in Israel
Bastions of Antiquity
Capital of Suck
Cannibalception
The Apostate Uncle
and
Lover's Bonus

After we hit the bottom of the proverbial band name we branched off into song titles and album names and even occasionally stage names. The vast majority of these go to Rabbis Anonymous because we tend to find jokes about religious subject matter hilarious.

Our favorite album goes to A Firm Grip on the Soap as performed by Flaming Racist prior to Creed's prison tour.

As time goes on I may or may not add to this list, but if you come across any awesome band names in your conversations, please feel free to whip this joke out and comment below, but only if it is above a five. Take luck for your finals people.

Whitlock out.

A Winter of Disillusionment

This has been one of the most interesting winters of my life. Not necessarily because interesting things have happened, but because of how much my viewpoint has changed.

I've had a lot of chances to discover new things about myself. Some things I like, some things I don't, but they're all definite parts of who I am at this time.

I should disclaimer this like Ryan disclaimered (yes, I made that word up. Bite me. Figuratively.) his love for Kelly in the Office. I don't know if I'll be the same way next year, or in a month, or even tomorrow, but for now, this is who I am. Additionally, this isn't a very funny post, so don't have too high of hopes if you continue reading.

I am disillusioned.

I used to be a realist. I used to think that if we just did our best than that was enough. It isn't any more. But I also no longer have any illusions that we will ever be better. The easiest way I can explain this is in politics, but it applies to the rest of life as well.

I used to be big into politics. Obnoxiously so. Just ask Jayden. I used to follow current events, study out issues, then come to decisions. And I would take my decisions and fight for them. Even though those beliefs changed, they always accompanied an assumption that people were inherently good and wanted what was best for each other. They always came with the assumption that if we worked together and tried to fix things, they would be fixed.

Those assumptions have faded.

Now I'm an idealist. I know what the most important thing in the world is (Romans 13:9) and I want people to move towards it, but the fact is that no one listens. I want people to love each other, but there's no room in this world for it. There is only anger, contention, and hate.

I guess that isn't entirely true. To me, the world is like a cloudy sky. Most all the light is shrouded in darkness, but when it manages to break through it looks all the more spectacular for it. I want to clear out the clouds and usher in a radiant dawn. But it isn't going to happen. I've lost my faith in humanity at large. People talk about wanting peace all over the world, but they only will accept it on their terms. At home, we've become so caught up in pride that whenever we try to talk about an issue we reject all views besides our own as closed minded without even noticing the hypocrisy.

Unity is one of the most important issues to me now. It supersedes gay rights, abortion, and illegal immigration. Logically, I feel like everyone realizes that, "A house divided against itself cannot stand," yet our country continues to split down the middle. It isn't worth it any more. It isn't worth the fight. As of about a month ago, I benched myself from politics and I won't return until my faith in humanity is restored and I believe I can do so without further dividing the people who need to come together.

On an unrelated note, I'm getting more and more selective.

Maybe that isn't the right word. Picky? Confident? Cocky?

Regardless, this applies primarily to women. No offense to any particular individuals, but I view women as a whole to be lower than I once viewed them. I used to sort of idealize girls, in a way, but that illusion is gone. With it is the way that I approach dating. I used to be decently shy and reserved because I didn't think I deserved the girls that I dated. That view has reversed. Now I'm cocky (yeah, that might be the best word here) enough to ask out anyone, but I'm harsh in judgement and I have really high expectations. I've been told that I have a type and that is completely true. I keep learning more and more about that type, but the things I do know are a bit like a checklist that I go through. Unless someone makes a fantastic first impression, there won't be a date number two, and I'm not likely to waste my time as friends either.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still a nice guy. I still treat girls with respect, for the most part, even if I don't respect them all internally. 

I'm mostly just a jerk on the inside. But you would be surprised at what a change that makes in the way things happen for me.

The third big change came as a shift of priorities from change to creation. This is a more optimistic change and one that is less likely to get me labeled a misogynist. For my entire life, I've wanted to do something incredible. I wanted to make a change in the world that made things better. I wanted to have at least one thing that made people look back and say to themselves, "Holy crap. He did it." However, as part of my afore mentioned lack of faith in humanity, I not only doubt now whether I could make a difference like that, but whether people would deserve it if I could.

But while I was talking with one of my old friends, my perspective shifted. I realized that I have the ability to do something much better than change the way things are. I get to create things. Myself. My life. My family. My life is a book that has yet to be written, and I have the pen. It's a change from being told that you couldn't clean Bernini's David to being given a chisel and a block of marble. Thanks to this paradigm shift, I've been finding it easier to just be content with the way things are, even though not everything lives up to my ridiculous ideals.

Also, I removed myself from the market about a week ago. I'm just too close to my mission for anything of value to happen, even to Dr. Desire.

So instead I'll keep reading the Way of Kings, inventing superheroes, and praying that the season finale of the Walking Dead doesn't feature the death of Daryl Dixon. Whitlock out.

Zombie Survival Plan A

My roommates and I sat down last night after watching the Walking Dead and created our survival plan for the zombie apocalypse. Rather than having to go all Will Smith and wait on a pier every day when the sun is highest in the sky, I'm going to give you that plan right now so that you can potentially join our merry band. Easton and Jacob, feel free to correct me if I mess something up

The assumption is that we all wake up one morning and 90% or so of the population has become zombified overnight. Actually, I guess that means that 10% of us wake up as the rest of us are zombies...but nonetheless.

Firstly, we take a couple hours to gather supplies (food, clothing, weapons, etc). Priorities are dense canned foods and water containers. When the time comes to leave our apartment, we are going to wrap our forearms in duct tape as a sort of makeshift armor. When zombies come at us, we can then "feed" them our forearms, which they will try to bit into, then knife them in the heads. Making our break with as many supplies as we can carry, we head for Easton's car and haul as far as we can on the way to the safest place I can think of: my cul-de-sac. Eventually, the road will be blocked or become impassible so we ditch the car and try to travel as carefully and quietly to Highland as we can. Along the way, we want to head to a sporting goods store. Survivors will be competing initially for guns and food, baseball bats and football pads won't be quite as immediately sought after, but they could potentially be just as effective vs the zombies, if not competing survivors.

The appeal of Highland is three fold: Firstly, whatever is left of my family and friends will be there. Secondly, Roy Banks and his arsenal will be there, making it the safest place in Utah Valley. He can't be stopped, as it were. Thirdly, God willing, Timberly will still be alive as we'll need his outdoors experience. Once my little team gets there, we can join up with my neighbors and arm ourselves to some degree or another. Then we set out for St. George. Because the roads will probably be blocked, we intend to try and scavenge motorcycles and off road vehicles. Gas shouldn't be a huge problem unless it is being protected by other survivors. An alternative option involves stealing some fire trucks, which should be able to push through a few cars and carry a sizable water supply.

Saint George is the survive-the-winter area. It is isolated enough that zombies shouldn't be able to arrive very often from outside. The group could base outside of the city far enough away that zombies could be seen approaching, but close enough for frequent supply runs. It is also temperate enough that a winter without power should be pretty survivable.

After a winter without food, most of the zombies and survivors should be dead. From here the plan is to head to the coast. Travel might be difficult, but the hardest part will be making it through a city to our real target: a cruise ship. If we can find a ship that hasn't already been claimed by another group of survivors, I'd be amazed. I'd also be pleasantly surprised if said group was friendly.

If, however, we can take a cruise ship, we don't have to know how to use it. All we have to do is cast off a little ways. Using bed sheets and lifeboats as makeshift sailing ships, we can make sorties into town to gather supplies and books. Navigational and operational knowledge gained from the books should enable the group, over time, to make a journey to an island somewhere where we can start society over.

I shall call the island New Eden, as it shall be the birthplace of new humanity. I thought it was cute. I also call taking point on scavenging expeditions. I feel like I could sneak around zombies pretty well, though I should probably bring a teammate that can actually find things...

Ok, maybe I'll stay in camp and guard the latrines.

Actually, forget about that. I call being that one guy who gets zombified right as everything seems to be working out. I give Jaybear full permission to put me down, as he may the most experienced (virtual) zombie slayer in the group. Should he fail, I would like the group to start some sort of cult with me as the undead pope.

Happy ending. Minus at least 90% of humanity. But you can't win them all, eh?

My Funeral

In the course of my life, I have given an inordinate amount of thought to the way I want to go out.

Well sort of.

The way I die is important I guess, but I tend to think more about the way I want my funeral to be. I don't care to make a legal will at this time, so this will be my unofficial official request for the program.

Ya'll ready for this?

I suppose there are two paths that my funeral could take. The sad path and my path. For the sad path, my only requests are that it be short, we keep the invitations to a minimum, and that my ashes be scattered into some part of the ocean, preferably in a spot where it would be illegal to do so, to the tune of the last two minutes or so of "the Bridge of Khazad Dum."

Now my path.

I want to make certain that my funeral is, in fact, a laughing matter. For starters, I don't want a closed casket with a line of mourners walking past, I want my skeleton to be replaced with a remote controlled mechanical skeleton complete with a speaker system somewhere in my mouth. Ideally, this will not only give the children something to do, but allow my body to walk around delivering prerecorded messages. I hope to great people at the door, give high fives, and say those offensive, unfiltered things that you know and love me for.

The playlist should include the following.

Dumb Ways to Die

Time of Dying - Three Days Grace

That bye, bye, bye song by the Backstreet Boys. Wait, do they think they are thug enough for a Boyz? Meh.

Highway to Hell - ACDC

That Ring of Fire song. This one serves the dual purpose of highlighting the "Josh went to Hell" message and driving people away if they decide to stick around too long. After two hours, just set it to loop.

Take the Money and Run - the Steve Miller Band: to be played at whenever my possessions are being discussed.

Stayin' Alive - Bee Gees

Another One Bites the Dust - Queen

I'll Be In the Sky - BoB

(Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult

Grenade - Bruno Mars

Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons

Swing Life Away - Rise Against

Pain - Three Days Grace

Get Out Alive - Three Days Grace

50 Ways to Say Goodbye - Train

Skyway Avenue - We the Kings

Additionally, I want a halftime show of some sort. I want two talks, the first being a roast and the second a compilation of the funniest things I've ever said. For each, I want people to try out for a panel of judges, who will determine their aptitude based on ability rather than familial connection. In between I want either a dance off or some kind of a group lightsaber fight in the chapel to be led by the Banks. 

My body/ashes are to be handed over to a group of drunk native Americans who will then throw me in the back of a truck and attempt to drive me to the nearest dumpster, screaming Indian war cries the whole while. Mourners may feel free to either follow them over or depart with all haste to avoid the non-negotiably drunk drivers.

Following this scene, please feel free to take your children for a milkshake or therapy as their needs may dictate.

Ooh, and if you could somehow turn me black first, that would be prime.

Feel free to leave suggestions and comments below. 

"Mission Bound"

This post has nothing really to do with the state of my call or actual mission preparedness. I just wanted to vent really quick about something that has been bugging me for months.

Since I've graduated, the majority of my man-friends have left on missions. Incidentally and unrelatedly, this makes it extremely hard to find a double if I ever want to go on a double date. I think it is awesome that they are going. I'm super proud of them and the choices they have made.

But sometimes I get worried about why.

Because it isn't just my friends that are going. It isn't just the people who have been committed and strong in the church. It isn't just the responsible, hardworking, devout men who are serving.

This doesn't sound like a bad thing on the surface. It can, and often should, be interpreted as those individuals changing for the better. Accepting their Savior. But not always. Something I didn't expect to see was people serving a mission for the attention. More and more often, however, I'm starting to think that social forces and whatnot are some of the primary driving factors in why guys choose to go.

Really quickly, let me assert that I don't think that this is the case, generally speaking, for girls. More girls are going since the age limit was lowered, but the ones that I have seen put in their papers were strong and willing to serve before the announcement.

One of the main reasons I'm starting to be worried about missionaries is the widespread broadcasting of mission related updates, especially on facebook and twitter. Long before they are set apart, people are changing their names to include the "Elder" title. Everywhere I'm seeing #missionbound pop up.

Why?!

On the elder thing, you have been an elder for months. Before that, you were a priest, a teacher, and a deacon. None of those titles made it into your name, and I seriously doubt that once you get back you will keep your priesthood office next to your name. I have yet to encounter someone on Facebook who refers to themselves as "Bishop Soandso" or "High Priest Soandso."

With the #missionbound thing, I know a lot of people will disagree with me. Feel free. But I feel like the phrase projects a feeling of bravado and even a little grandeur that doesn't belong in talking about your mission.

For me, a mission is, or should be, something selfless. If you have turned in your papers, if you have received the Melchizedek priesthood, and especially if you have been through the temple, you have surrendered yourself for God. What you want, what you feel, what you need no longer matters. It is your job to act as an instrument for God and do his work. Your life is no longer your own. It belongs to the King of Kings.

All of that self submission demands humility. Therefore, humility is a key aspect in what should make up the attitude of a successful missionary.

Now this "mission bound" business, at least to me, doesn't have a shred of humility in it. You say that you are mission bound when you want to brag or get attention for yourself or earn social favor. I say this because I first noticed this trend with people who have histories of attention addiction. Then it spread because it worked. I have yet to see a post with mission bound in it, or anything relating to a mission, that hasn't gotten a lot of likes.

So if you want to get people to listen to you, go ahead I guess. And maybe I'm wrong and I'm reading way too much into this. But when you don't see my name change and I only post or tweet updates like where I'm going and my report date, you know why.

"The secret of true religion is religion practiced in secret."

Two Days and Nights of Win

I've had the best couple of days this week.

Day 1:
I'm on my way to work, where we have been mostly cleaning ovens and hotboxes for the past two weeks, when Roman calls me up. For those of you who don't know Roman, he's one of my roommates for summer semester. Really cool guy. Want's to be a director someday. So he calls me up and tells me that he's got a couple of tickets for us to go to a movie as part of the Sundance film festival. We ended up going to see No, which was nominated for best foreign film and was actually really good despite some language.

Win.

Then I get to work. I grab my rag and get ready to attack an oven when my boss walks in and calls us into the pastry kitchen. We move in and he tells us that he needs us to taste test a bunch of new additions to the menu. I ended up eating two fish dishes, a dessert crepe, and then two meal crepes. All professionally prepared. For what would cost a customer about $80. While they paid me to do it.

Win.

I finish eating and get to work, which ends up not involving any cleaning at all. As I'm working, Bishop J texts me and informs me that my mission call is on the way.

Win.

Then I finish off the day by going to a BYU volleyball game with some friends. I spend most of the time trying to figure out what was going on, but once I do it's pretty fun.

Day 2:
Ok, pause day two. Flashback to some other point this week. Some girls that we have never met before come over and invite us to breakfast.

Resume day two. Picture go regular.

I wake up this morning and head over to breakfast. Me and Will decide to run over so we don't have to put on jackets. Brilliant, right? So we run over and discover that the door to the girls dorm is locked. And it is freezing outside.

Will tries to call the girls, but with no luck. I get frustrated, and at the top of my lungs shout, "WOMEN!!!!" And it works. I guess I woke up Becca and, for whatever gender associated reason, she decided to answer the door and let us in.

Win.

We get into the girl's apartment. Now, you know how I have issues filtering what comes out of my mouth? If you don't, I'm a really sincere, genuine person. And I also seem to have a flair for the controversial. So, essentially, I have this unfortunate knack for saying things that sound good in my head, but really shouldn't ever be said. Well this morning was extra bad.

I managed to offend or say something offensive to 5 out of the six girls.

Now I don't regret most of it. Like I said, this was a great day. But still.

Out of my mouth comes spilling things ranging from the direct insult of a foreign country (that really should be a state. I mean, how come we let Canada be independent?) to things that, I have been informed, were racist in nature with regard to the race of one of the girls. I stand by my Canadian sentiments, even if they are really just meant as a joke. Racially, one of the girls we were with mentioned that she was asian, so I asked her, "What kind of asian are you?" In my head, I was harmlessly asking what country her ancestors were from. The follow up of the "Jap" word probably wasn't the most well thought out, but for me it is a shortened version of Japanese, not a derogatory slur.

I also, to my discredit, informed a girl that because she doesn't like Lord of the Rings, I couldn't date her.

Yeah...not my highest moment. Maybe I'll make cookies for her. But really, if you don't like both Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, I don't think we have a future. It doesn't make you a bad person...well, not really bad, but it is sort of a prerequisite trait, you know?

Regardless, I actually had a good bit of fun. I try to keep my controversial side caged up, but when it escapes I won't pretend not to enjoy myself.

Win.

Here's hoping that no future employers ever decide to read my blog.

Church was also great for me. A lot of the guys, me included, totally knew that Evan was going to be made Elder's quorum president, but it was still fun to see it happen, making Elder's quorum fairly memorable.

Win.

I was also the only guy who attended mission prep today. There were about nine girls.

Win.

On the way to church we discovered that there is a girls dorm with a massive Minas Tirith poster hanging in their window. We plan to invite them to second breakfast sometime soon.

Win.

And I just had taco night with my roommates.

Win.

When Hell Freezes Over... It Will Look Just Like Provo

 Right. So here is that real post that you all have been just dying for.

No wait. Ya'll are dying because it's so flipping cold outside. So cold, in fact that I actually did a little happy dance this afternoon when I decided that we might have topped freezing. To the ginger chick who giggled, I say, "At least I have a soul."

And yes, I just said ya'll. I don't know if I spelled it right, but as a child of Tennessee I have an eternal right to say ya'll. And spell in a questionable manner.

But onto business.

The story of my break is actually pretty straight forward. I got home, spent a couple days bumming with Jbear, ended up spending the first weekend in my parent's honeymoon hotel (shudder), and actually got to see Jessica for the first time in months. And the last time for years, sadly enough.

I worked a couple of times, and went on a few dates. I originally intended to go with three, then three may or may not have become four, then it dropped back to two or three. Depending on how you define date. And don't give me that "planned, paired off, and paid for" crap. Intention is more important than any of those.

On Christmas I got some quality presents, but the one that probably takes the cake is the Blu Ray (sp? Tennessee.) extended edition box set of the Lord of the Rings, including over thirty hours of bonus appendices content. Win. I tried to force my family to watch it with me, but my dad didn't have time and my brothers lost interest after it took Frodo an hour and a half to leave the Shire. Thanks for sticking with me mom.

On the movie strain, I saw the Hobbit twice and Les Miserables thrice. I'm officially giving up on the whole review thing, because even though some random website started picking them up, I don't feel like a paragraph or two is enough space for me to deliver anything but fluff. Plus I don't want to spoil movies for people who want to see them. Long story short, I liked the Hobbit, though Lord of the Rings is far better in my opinion, and I loved Les Miserables. The singing wasn't the best I've heard, though it was quite good, but the acting, especially from Jackman and Hathaway was some of the best I've ever seen.

But I didn't cry. Openly.

I also read half of the Mistborn trilogy (love), but Tyler wouldn't let me take the last book with me back to college, so here I am. Writing instead. Trying to forget that it is colder than the ice inside of Voldemort's soul out there.

The funny part is I conditioned myself to be this way. I used to love the cold. Then I met someone who didn't, so I sat in my car with the windows rolled up in the middle of summer for hours at a time to teach my body to embrace heat.

I swear, I'm going to Siberia.

Oh yeah, I'm going on a mission. My papers were turned in to bishop last Saturday and as of this morning they are in Salt Lake. If all goes well, I should have my call by next week.

Think warm, non-french/canadian thoughts.

Jinx.

Ah... Moses.

(does the black spot dance from Dead Man's Chest)

Hard Lessons

Warning: If you are looking for a post that makes you laugh or updates you on what I've been up to, this isn't the post. I might do one of those in the next week or so, depending on how busy I am. This post is, in its very nature, depressing. Don't continue reading if you don't need or want that.

For the past few months I've been learning some hard lessons. Things that it seems like the rest of the world already knew, but I rejected until life hammered them into my skull.

1. There isn't any room for a cynical idealist - Though it may not show through, I actually am an idealist. I just hold different ideals than most people. Sounds like a good thing, right? It isn't. Because I'm also a cynic. Poke holes in things that don't make sense, doubt unless there is evidence reinforcing a concept. So while I hold up my ideals (loyalty, honesty, love, etc) I have no hope that they will ever be accepted into the world. It's a depressing sort of a mind set.

2. People don't really want to know the real you - They may say that they do, but they don't. At least not for me. Maybe you are so awesome that people just love you all the time. In my experience, honesty is not the best policy when it comes to making friends. People want to hear what they want to hear. The truth has very little to do with it. When people ask how you are doing, they don't want to hear you actually tell them anything about your life, they want to hear "fine" or "good" or any number of bland answers that we train into our preschoolers. To the rest of the world, it is better for you to put up a facade and pretend to be someone shallow than it is to reveal the real you. By the way, I recognize that this post violates the rule, in a way. There's a part of me, the idealistic part, that wants to continue to act as if the world was perfect and everyone actually was interested in the innermost workings of your mind even if the cynical part of me knows that it isn't true.

3. Everyone will betray you - This is an idea that I have rejected for my entire life, so I'm not surprised at all that you are probably shaking your head right now. But...my life supports it. My concept of friendship has changed dramatically over the years. In high school I spent most of my time bouncing around between different groups of friends. It was fine, I always had someone to talk to, but there was a part of me that wanted a small, close-knit group of inseparable friends. People I could always count on. People I could trust. In the course of the last year or so the idealistic part of me decided to go for it. I kept my core of friends, Tyler and Spencer, and tried to find other people that I could count on to bring in. This is why I go through and clean out my facebook friends so often (yes, "facebook"not "Facebook." Screw you, guyonthesocialnetwork). Why should I connect with people that won't have my back when the time comes? Everyone will betray you. That isn't true, right? There are people who would never do that to you. Friends flake. They prioritize others. They put their own needs far above yours. And eventually they'll leave. Even your best friends will betray you in the end. The only difference between a friend and a best friend is the amount of time it takes for them to stab you in the back. 

Well, that isn't true. Their knife also goes much, much deeper.

4. Love is when sacrifice ceases to be sacrifice - I've always wondered what love really was. Even though I don't claim to have all of the answers (but maybe most of them) I think I finally understand what love really is. For a long time, I just thought that love was sacrifice. Prioritizing someone else beyond yourself and acting on it. Doing whatever you could to make them happy, even if you were slightly less so. I was wrong. Love goes deeper than that. Love is a point far past sacrifice when the act of sacrifice no longer costs you happiness. Love is when the knowledge that what you have done has made someone else happy gives you more joy than anything else you could have done. When your life ceases to belong to you, and that's how you like it, that is love. When you have lost, and yet found, your self, that is love.

The cynical part of me says that if there is love in the world it is dying. Everyone, myself included, is worried about number one. No one is loyal anymore. Greed is everywhere. Hate is strong. The world is dark.

But the idealist in me continues to hope, continues to dream that someday love will come back and light the darkness. I just hope I can find a spark of it somewhere. Because even though it is small and even though it can quickly be extinguished, a spark can hold back the darkness. A spark can start a flame.