4.30.2013

I'm the same

So I didn't blog for 19 days. Longest gap I've had in a long while. But be grateful Juan Pablo, because a lot of what happened in the last 19 days was a lot like this crap. I don't like a lot of those blog posts because:
A) They're annoying and vague.
B) They show me at my weakest.
C) Who wants to read that crap?

Thanks to my lack of ambition, a side affect of senioritis, you don't have to read those posts I could have written.
Here are the last 19 days summed up in nineteen words:
California
Disneyland
Girl Relapse
Eagle Court of Honor
Senioritis
Lack of Ambition
Confusion
Done with high school
No money

That's all you need to know. Here are some thoughts that I have had lately:

  • Ferris Bueller's Day Off is a completely different movie when you are a month away from graduation.
  • I am really popular. I don't know what happened. Suddenly, I am not that nerd everyone thinks is weird. I am that weird nerd that everyone wonders how someone like me got so popular.
  • Clark Kent would be a lot like me. You know what I mean? I mean, really. To totally dissuade anyone who might think he is Superman, he would be a total nerd who isn't into much physical activity.
  • I am so done with high school. My new favorite line from Ferris Bueller's Day Off is, "It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school." I mean, really, give me one thing that I need to learn in the next month that I haven't learned some time in the last thirteen years. High school really is childish and stupid.
  • I have eighty five more days in my home. Pleasant Grove and I are parting ways, maybe (probably not) for good. Okay, I don't have a girlfriend. I won't have a girlfriend before my mission. But I have PG. This town has given me everything. I'm telling you, there is no where in the world that can compare to Pleasant Grove. She is my first love. 
  • Sometimes I can think for a little bit what I want to do with my life, but it only sticks around for a couple days, maximum. A couple serious considerations: secret agent, writer, journalist, director, movie writer, neurological scientist, brain surgeon, chef, restaurant owner, psychologist, life counselor (I don't know what that would be, exactly, I'm just good at advice), astronaut. I have no idea. I just wish it would be simpler. Freaking heck. 
  • My wife>>>>>>>. (And I never do the greater than thing, so that proves how true that is).
  • Man of Steel is going to be one of the best movies ever made. I am going to promise you that right now. And if it's rated 'R,' I may have one of the biggest life decisions ever to make: whether or not I see it.
  • I seemed to have lost my lactose intolerance. But at the same time, I got allergies. That is pretty weird.
  • I am so ready to be going to Italy. I won't be sad leaving. I'm ready to just move on. But driving on the freeway between the MTC and the airport past the only place ever to be my home will be the hardest part. I'll probably cry.
That was April for me. Sorry I never posted. It's not that I'm not good at it, typically. 

85 days.

4.11.2013

Only nerds write papers for fun

I haven't written for a while. Being busy and stuff. I don't want to write about me, though. If you know me, you know I love the novel To Kill a Mockingbird. That book has heroes and villains. Some of the greatest people have the worst situations thrust upon them, yet they pull through. Atticus Finch. Heck Tate. Judge Taylor. Tom Robinson. Arthur Radley. But those people won't really be the focus of what I am writing about tonight. I want to write a paper about a man who dies in the first chapter of the book. A man who literally never talks in the whole novel. A man whose first name we don't even learn: Mr. Radley.

The first time through the book To Kill a Mockingbird, it is very easy for one to think that Mr. Radley is a rigid, total jerk. In fact, having read this novel over ten times, I can tell you that that perspective is probably going to stick. I never thought about it, really. He was a jerk and he died. Done deal. However, I have been thinking about it. I have really been thinking about it. To the point that now when I think about Mr. Radley, I tear up. I submit to you that Mr. Radley was as great of a man as Atticus Finch. The only difference was that he had a rougher situation.

Here is a little thought I had that you probably haven't considered (I say that because I just barely thought of it and that was on a fluke): Arthur Radley was mentally handicapped. Now mind you, I don't mean that he had a lot of disabilities; maybe just a little autism. The book takes place in the 1930's in the South. Heck, this was a time when they hardly understood that skin color didn't change the worth of a person. They almost definitely didn't understand mental illness. Now keep that in mind as we go on.

Mr. Radley was said to be devoutly religious. A man whose only law was the law of God. A man who was most likely extremely happy to have a healthy baby boy, Nathan. A man who was probably extremely distraught when his second son, Arthur, was born with problems he didn't understand. A man who probably prayed to God asking why he had been given this unsolvable trial. A man whose already stiff living became stiffer, thinking he had done something to upset God. His children grew up living fairly normal lives, his younger sons slight disability not too noticeable, but just noticeable enough for Mr. Radley to want to change it yet was unable to do so. Mr. Radley was aware that his younger son did not have many friends. He was sad that his son was so distant. Then finally Arthur got some friends. Mr. Radley didn't care who these kids were; they were friends with Arthur and that was good enough. His son was finally normal and Mr. Radley was so happy. He really loved Arthur.

That's why the arrest came as such a shock. It wasn't as bad as everyone said it was. Small towns always blow things out of proportions. The biggest problem was not the charges. The court wanted the boys to be sent to a correctional school. But Mr. Radley knew better than most: Arthur wouldn't do well there. He just wouldn't be able to make it with all his special needs. Not only that, but ever since the incident (of which he was just an observer), Arthur was scared. Mr. Radley told the courts that he would never send his son to that school. People took it as a sign of pride, but it didn't matter. The thing was, Arthur didn't need to be encouraged to stay indoors. He was scared. His simple mind couldn't think of anything outside of his house that was good.

After Nathan moved out, the Radley's reached a very easy point in their lives. Mr. Radley, now retired, bought groceries. Mrs. Radley took care of the house and her plants on the porch. Arthur was Arthur. He was content as long as he had newspaper and scissors. Mr. Radley started to love his son more. Mr. Radley went from seeing his son as a curse of God and started to think of him as a gift from God. Mr. Radley, a typically calm, reserved man, started playing with his son. He may have been an adult, but he had the mind and the heart of an innocent child and Mr. Radley loved that. In contrast, as his love for Arthur grew, his resentment for Maycomb also grew. Their stories of Arthur become wild exaggerations. They didn't know Arthur. Who were they to judge his blessing from God? The neighborhood starting calling Arthur the cruel name of Boo, as though he were just a creature and not a beautiful, wonderful, innocent young man. Mr. Radley started to speak to Maycomb citizens as minimally as possible. 

One night, Arthur and Mr. Radley were playing a game. Arthur got excited. Too excited. It was an accident. He didn't even really realize what he had done. He stabbed Mr. Radley in the leg with his favorite pair of scissors. They went to Dr. Reynolds and of course he had to call Heck Tate. When he got to the Radley residence, Arthur had forgotten the incident. Mr. and Mrs. Radley thought it was understandable. No one else did. The whole thing got blown out of proportions again. They locked Arthur up. It made Mr. Radley mad. His son was not a criminal. His son was not crazy. His son was a beautiful young man who just had a different understanding. Arthur was locked up and Mr. Radley couldn't get him out fast enough. Finally the courts heard his appeal; Arthur was coming home. Mr. Radley couldn't wait to have his little boy home again. 

The nights in the courthouse basement changed Arthur. Now he was silent. He was deathly afraid to go outside. It broke Mr. Radley's heart. His son was so sweet and they had ruined his life. His special son, and he was lost because of their ignorance. Mr. Radley's personality in public was so cold that before he seemed personable in comparison. He had little to say to these people. He didn't care what they thought. He didn't care about their lives. Even the good ones like the lawyer Finch became strangers. Mr. Radley spent all day every day trying to get Arthur to become what he used to be. After years of trying, it finally hit Mr. Radley: Arthur was gone. All that was left was Boo.

The day he realized was the day he started dying. Within a month he was on his deathbed. The typical people came over. Boo stayed away. Mr. Radley died thinking his son was broken and he couldn't do anything to change that. As far as he knew, no one could fix him. 

Of course, that was before Dill bet Jem that he couldn't touch the Radley house. That was before Boo met Scout and that was before Arthur started watching the lawyer Finch's kids.



That was my paper. I hope you like it. Because that was all I would need to use it for. Also, if you want to disprove anything I wrote, most of it was guesswork. It all came from the first chapter. Now if you haven't read this book, ask yourself, "Why in the world would a senior in high school write a four page paper for fun?" That is how amazing this book is. That paper was written from the first chapter. Seriously, if you haven't read it, do it now. I promise you it will change your perspective on life. It is so amazing. Thanks for reading this. Here's your prize. I have no idea what the heck it is. I spent like thirty seconds exploring, but have at it. That's all. Goodnight!

4.01.2013

I gave a talk yesterday


This is my talk. Enjoy.

The following is a true story, a story that touched my heart very much. Years ago, a good friend of mine was walking along the banks of a river with his very young sister. It was a Sunday afternoon and they went for a walk in their church attire. The sister shrieked with delight as she saw the lily pads that covered the surface of the river. She begged my friend to get her one. It was not very practical and most would just say maybe later, but my friend could not say no to this young sister that he loved so much. So, rolling up his pant legs and taking off his shoes, my friend plunged into the river. The water was cold and the rocks underfoot were sharp. The current was strong enough that he knew she would never have been able to retrieve the lily pads herself; she was simply too small to do it. As he continued, the jagged rocks hurting his numbing feet, he reached for a lily pad. From the banks of the river he heard his sister cry, “No! Not that one, the other!” My friend noticed a large lily pad that he was sure was the one she was referring to. However, it was almost to the other side of the river. This was going to be harder than he originally thought, but he knew it was going to be worth it, so he pressed onward. His feet had gone numb, so the rocks were hardly noticeable the rest of the way to and from the lily pad. Emerging from the water, he handed his sister the coveted lily pad. She was beyond happy. So happy, in fact, that she couldn’t even imagine how her older brother felt. His legs were numb up to the knees and he noticed that he was bleeding from several cuts on the bottoms of his feet. Before he could bend down to inspect the cuts, his sister ran and hugged him with all her might. I don’t know if she will soon know what her brother sacrificed for her happiness, but she will still forever be grateful for his love for her.
“[On] Easter,... we commemorate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. This was not an ordinary thing. It was the greatest event in human history. I do not hesitate to say that.”
-Gordon B. Hinckley (“He Is Not Here, but Is Risen, April 1999)

More than anything, Easter is the day we celebrate Christ’s literally undying love for us. We celebrate His humble, perfect life that made the Atonement possible. We celebrate His ability to completely turn His will to God, even when faced with all the pains of the earth. We celebrate His willingness to die for us, die even for the ones that killed Him. Do you realize that He loved them just as much? That if Christ was atoning for just Judas or Pilate or Herod, He would still do it? That is the level of love He feels for us. The culminating event of the Easter morning is Christ’s willingness to overcome death itself. His ability to come forth that Sabbath morning answering the question, “Will we live again?” with a resounding, “Yes!” We celebrate the only hope that was given to us: the atonement of Jesus Christ.
God had a simple but all too incredible plan. Send someone to live a perfect life then atone for the billions of His brothers and sisters’ sins. Not only did Christ volunteer for us, but He volunteered before the third of our heavenly siblings fell away! Think of all the sins that Christ would have had to overcome! But He didn’t care. He didn’t care the size of the burden He would be lifting, just that He would be lifting a burden. Christ did what the Father required.



“And to Thee, My God, the Fame”
By Wyatt Duclos

I sat in heaven,
 With my friends and family, 
Dreaming of a perfect life,
And an immortal body.

We pled with the Father,
Asked, “Please let us go,
To Earth to live,
To love and to grow.”

There sat our Father,
The Master of my soul,
He spake softly and said,
“One must pay the toll.”

Saddened and scared,
Too meek to volunteer,
I sat and watched our brother stand,
Loving and sincere.

“A sacrifice to be made,”
The Father sighed in pain.
“It is my lot,” the Son replied,
“And to Thee, my God, the fame.”

Christ, our Lord,
Suffered and died.
He did it not for money,
Or for adoring fans,
He did it for love,
For you and for me.
The Savior of All?
He made us free.