Love is Never Wasted

I'd like to start off by saying that I apologize if anyone who reads this is hurt by it. I am not upset - that's not the reason I am writing this.

Living in Provo can be fun, but it also has its downsides. One of those is that everyone wants to know everything about your dating life. I'm not immune from it either - no one really is. It's a cultural thing. And facebook has somehow played into all that. People see your status message, or your relationship status, or whatever, and assume that you want everyone to comment on it. Technically, we all know that all our friends can see it, but sometimes, maybe we only put it up for one person to read. We couldn't care less if anyone else saw it, and would prefer they just ignore it. That's happened to me, and I'm sure I've been guilty doing it to others in many instances.

And no matter where you go in Provo, people ask you how your love life is. But you know what? If anything exciting happened, like you got married or engaged, that'd probably be one of the things that would naturally come up in a conversation. You don't have to force things like that. And if s/he just went through a breakup or something, do you really want to bring that up? Probably best for everyone to just ask how things are going.

Point is, I said goodbye today to my girlfriend of about a year and a half. She's going home for the rest of the summer, and we don't know what's going to happen from here. That's all. Normally I wouldn't say anything about this - I like to play things close to the vest - but I'd rather not have people constantly asking me about it.

Anyway, I was talking to a friend today online. A girl I haven't really talked to in a long time - we were in a play together almost two years ago. She's only 16 years old, but she was the best person I could have talked to today. She, like everyone around here, asked me about my girlfriend. But for some reason, I was completely open with her about my whole situation. She made it easy, because she didn't judge me or offer me any counsel or advice, and she didn't offer her own commentary on the situation. She just listened. And it was exactly what I needed. In the course of our conversation, she said something to me that amazed me that it came from someone her age.

She said, "I think it is so cute that you love her [my girlfriend] so much. You LOVE her... I think love is unselfish. You don't love someone to get love back...you love them because you care about them so much you love who they are. You love THEM."

Then she asked if that was cheesy. And I can honestly say it's not. It's a true statement, because love is selfless. A wise man once said this statement, after which I will make an end of my writings. He said:

"Love is never wasted, for its value does not rest on reciprocity."

So...Where Are You From?

I can't really say that I "grew up" anywhere. I've moved around so much that I still have a hard time telling people "where I'm from" (which I know is bad grammar, but I know the rule, so I'm allowed to break it). As evidence of this non-growing-up-in-one-particular-place-itude, I currently have a Washington driver's license, Oregon license plates, and I live in Utah (don't tell the DMV).

My parents met, dated, and got married in Portland, Oregon, where I was born. I am the oldest of five kids, and the only one born in Portland. Because of the economic situation, my family briefly moved to Utah so my dad could go to school, but quickly got the heck out of there and back to the Pacific Northwest, when my dad took a job in Washington.

When we moved, I was almost four years old. Shortly afterwards, my baby sister was born. Then my little brother, and then my dad got job with a new company, which required us to move to Oregon. Over the next 11 years, we moved four more times and ended up back in Washington. By that time I was 18, and moved to Utah for school, back to Washington, to England for a mission, back to Washington, then back to Utah, where I've been (more or less) for the last four years. In the meantime, my family came full circle and moved back to Portland.

Now, if you've made it past my family's moving history to this point, thank you for sticking in there. But the point I'm trying to make here is this: I never grew up anywhere. I don't know what it's like to have lived in the same house my whole life. I don't get those kids who have such an incredibly hard time their first year of college, being away from their hometown. I don't understand the desire some people have of never wanting to leave home and who live in the same neighborhood as their parents and grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles. But that's because I've never had a hometown. I don't understand what a hometown is.

Sometimes my sister and I will say something about how we didn't grow up in one particular place when my dad is around. Then he'll start to get defensive about it, saying that if we hadn't moved, that Taylor and I wouldn't have had the opportunities that we do, etc. We try to calm him down and tell him to relax. Because we agree with him - we know that. We understand. And the thing is, we're not complaining about it. In fact, we're glad to have moved around like we did.

Personally, I'm glad that there's no one in my family's ward who feels comfortable enough at Christmastime, simply because I've grown up in the ward (regardless of whether or not they know me that well), to say something to me about how I should be married by now. I like going home and getting lost trying to get to my house, simply because I've never driven that way before. And I like that when I go home, I go home to see my family.

Maybe I've never had many close friends because of that, but I'm okay with that. Because what I learned, growing up in Mantec-Kinley-Spring-Port-Belling-land, was so much better than making a friend or two along the way. I learned that the most important part of life is family. And I'm grateful to my parents for teaching me that.

I'm no Superman

How do you make sure that you have a good relationship?

My girlfriend and I are big fans of the TV show Scrubs, and she recently bought the first season, so we’ve been watching it a lot in the evenings. I recently wrote a blog entry berating sitcoms, but Scrubs is not your typical sitcom. It is funny, but deep at the same time, which is an amazing feat for a half hour TV show. Although it is absolutely hilarious, it also manages to teach something about human emotions every time.

One of the episodes we watched really struck some kind of chord with me. It was about Elliot and JD’s brief relationship. How it started so amazingly, then spiraled downhill and finally ended…badly. Throughout the show, there are clips of the doctors talking to a psychologist. After their relationship ends, Elliot is talking to the shrink and says something about relationships.

“But, relationships.... I always heard that when they were right, they were easy. That--that, even when things got hard...that they were easy. I don't get that at all, you know?”

Dr. Cox is probably my favorite character – he always has some good insight.

“Bottom line...is the couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else, but, the big difference is, they don't let it take 'em down. One of those two people will stand up and fight for that relationship every time, if it's right, and they're real lucky. One of them will say something.”

I can honestly say that I used to be like Elliot. I always thought that relationships would be easy if they were “right,” whatever that means. But I’ve learned, as Dr. Cox did, that the difference between a good relationship that works and a good relationship that doesn’t, is that in the relationship that works, someone will fight for it. There is at least one person who wants it so bad that he or she will contend for that relationship.

Couples aren’t always both working equally for the relationship to work. Sometimes, someone has to pull the other. She’s willing to pull him for a little while, so long as he doesn’t drag his feet too long. And sometimes, maybe down the line, he will have to pull her until she can pick up her feet and start walking. But as long as one person is still pushing for the relationship to work, it’s possible. But if it takes too long for him to pick up his feet, she gets too tired, and they both sit down. Or if they both get tired at the same time, but neither is selfless enough to stand up and pull the other back up, the relationship is over.

I was going to go off on something about married couples talking to other people about their relationship issues, or mentioning faults of their spouses to others, which I think is dumb and a sure road to marital problems, but I’ll save that for another blog. For now, I’ll just leave you with this bit of wisdom.

No matter how good your relationship is now, there is going to come a time when you’re going to have to make a decision to either fight for it or to give it up entirely. Now here’s the bit of wisdom. No matter what she says or does – even if she gives up on the relationship – you can’t give up. You fight for that relationship with all you have in you, and then some. Because if you give up without a fight, that tells us something about you and the weakness of your character. But not only that – it also tells us that she wasn’t really worth it to you anyway.

--
I can’t do this all on my own. No – I know I’m no Superman.

Ten Years

Brother Landen dropped me off that morning after seminary. I remember walking up the front walkway towards the main entrance to the high school, just off to another day of school. As I approached the gate, with the office on my right, I suddenly saw students begin running out of the cafeteria through the side door, coming my direction.

I was very confused and not sure how to take it. I tried to find out by saying, “What’s going on?” “What happened?” A kid I’d never seen before (and never have again) exclaimed, as he moved along with the crowd, “Someone’s shooting!”

I don’t think it sunk in right then – it didn’t seem real. But then I heard a loud gunshot, and I turned around and ran with the crowd toward the street. We stood beyond the school gates, a huge mass huddled together, until a teacher beckoned us to come back. He ushered us through the main gate and to the right, past the main office and across the quad from the cafeteria to the library. Dozens of students were in there, and we were all confused as to what was going on. My friend Ben’s girlfriend Shy came up to me with tears running down her face, saying she’d heard that Ben was shot in the head. Nothing was real to me – I tried just to comfort her, telling her I was sure he’d be okay. He wasn’t – he died in the hospital later.

No one really had cell phones back then. The school officials in the library with us let us use a phone at the back of the library if we wanted. When it wasn’t so crowded, I made my way toward it and used it to call my family, but the line wasn’t working. I realized that the lines around this area were likely very crowded with phone calls, so after several attempts, I called my dad at work. My dad’s secretary answered and said he wasn’t there. I told her it was me, and told her that I was okay. I realized later that that was the best thing I could do for all of my extended family, because when they couldn’t get through to my house, they called my dad’s office, and his secretary would tell them I was fine.

My parents probably had to wait longer to know that. They were taking my little sister to middle school when they saw everything near the high school. They drove her to school and dropped her off, then headed back to the school. They parked somewhere and stood across the street from the school at the church with other parents. At some point, a police officer read a list of names, and asked for the parents of those children to come talk to him afterwards. My dad told me he was standing with my seminary teacher’s husband when they read the list, and neither mine, Taylor’s, nor Lacy’s names were read. Brother Stockwell put his arm around Dad as they both cried.

After what seemed like forever, we were finally informed we were going to be leaving. We exited the library through the back door instead of the door that faced the cafeteria, and joined with hundreds of other students who were being let out of their classrooms where they had also been locked down. I wondered if my parents would be there. We walked the entire length of the hallway before we got to the parking lot on the other end of the school. Right when we got to the opening, I saw my parents standing there. I only remember their faces being so relieved, and my dad crying as he swept me up in his arms. I’d never seen him cry before, and I knew then that I would never in my life need to doubt his love for me. My mom was crying too, of course. She hugged me too, and we walked to the car and drove home. I don’t even remember where they parked it.

In the aftermath, I watched the news, I read the newspaper – things I had never really done before. I listened to national news anchors mispronounce words like Willamette, and I read about how my friend, Ben Walker, had died. I learned of how people I knew, and people I eventually met and became friends with in the years that followed, had been injured or killed. I went to Ben’s funeral. I visited the wall of flowers that, until the shootings, had just been the fence in front of the school. I watched my father help one of my friend’s dad give a blessing to her. I talked in my seminary class with a reporter from the New Era. And I continued on with my life. 

I finished high school. My family moved – to Washington, then six years later to Portland. I served an LDS mission to the south of England for two years. I went to college. I graduated from college. And now I’m 25 years old, living in Utah and working for a market research firm. But in the last 10 years, I haven’t forgotten what happened on that day – and it is still one of my most vivid memories.

Please remember the families of Ben Walker and Mikael Nicholauson, as well as Kristin Kinkel (Kip killed their parents), in your prayers. And good luck to all the survivors of the Thurston High School shootings. But not just those injured – the community members of Springfield, Ore. are also survivors.

Television

I am not the biggest fan of sitcoms. I hate that the plots are so weak, and that all they go for is the cheap laugh. It seems sitcoms are actually getting worse nowadays, if that’s even possible. The comedy is so lowbrow that it makes you feel disgusted with yourself when you finally manage to peel yourself off the couch and jumpstart your brain. You wonder where the evening went, and why you didn’t engage yourself in something more worthwhile.

I recently read an article recently about sitcoms, and how they are wasting America’s time. But not only their time, but their brain power. The article goes on to say that Americans spend 200 billion hours a year just watching TV. It also mentions in comparison, that Wikipedia took approximately 100 million hours to get to where it is now. Think about all that ingenuity and intelligence and research (come on – some of Wikipedia is reputable) that went in to making that glorious, informative web site. And at only a tiny fraction of the time we waste mindlessly watching TV (0.05%, to be exact).

Now on a personal note, I enjoy watching Law & Order. This likely comes as no surprise to my girlfriend, my family, or close associates. This show is different from most shows – it makes you think, it engages you. And yes, it may be a little dramatic, but at least the situations are somewhat more realistic than shows such as CSI.

Is it predictable? Yes. Is it the same format every time? Yes. But is it more interesting and entertaining than a sitcom? Also, yes.

I think that I also relate to the main character – most often, my ideas and thoughts are the same or similar to Jack McCoy’s. I cheer for him every time he gets the bad guy, or argues with his boss over ethics, or disagrees time and time again with his incredibly liberal (and apparently homosexual – as taken from her last episode on the show, although that kind of came as a shocker to everyone else) one-time partner. I can’t even remember her name – she was the blond chick who was always freaking out about something.

But you become connected to the issues. My girlfriend says I get really involved in it. But how can you not? The show is charged with issues: political, ethical, moral, legal. You can’t help but get involved in them.

Anyway, my suggestion to all of you? Stop watching sitcoms and watch Law & Order reruns.

Josef Frizl - Truly a Monster

Oh – poor baby. Josef Fritzl, the Austrian man who imprisoned his daughter and several of their children in his cellar for 24 years, feels the media coverage has been too one-sided about him.

“Without me [she] would not be alive anymore... I was the one who made sure that she was taken to a hospital,” Mr. Fritzl said. “I could have killed all of them – then nothing would have happened. No one would have ever known about it,” he added. “I'm no monster.”

Let’s see here. You lock up your daughter in a cellar and tell people she’s run away, rape her who knows how many times, have seven children with her, keeping three of them locked up in the cellar with her and incinerating the body of one who died so as to destroy any evidence, threaten to gas them if they try anything, and live a two-faced double life.

You were a sex-offender already – convicted of rape. You frequented a brothel, where all of the prostitutes were afraid of you, because you wanted them to pretend to be corpses when you had sex with them. And your daughter, Elisabeth, whom you locked up when she was 18, says you began to sexually abuse her when she was only 11 years old.

Yet you say that at least you didn’t kill them – and you’re not a monster, because you brought your daughter flowers, and you brought your children, the products of your incest, books and stuffed animals.

Now, your lawyer claims you’re insane, and is trying to get a certificate of insanity for you. Now I’m not a psychologist, but someone who has the presence of mind to know what they’re doing is wrong is not insane. “I constantly knew, over the entire 24 years, that what I did was not right,” Fritzl was quoted as saying. He also said he had an addiction – but having an addiction does not excuse one’s actions.

Here is my response to you, Josef Frizl: “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”

You will burn for this, Mr. Fritzl. I hope that God grants you mercy, but only after you endure horrible pains for your sins. Of all sins, rape is the most abhorrent to me, and it is my opinion that you should receive capital punishment. Rapists, especially those that sexually abuse children, should be castrated and/or sentenced to death. You’ve not only raped once, but countless times, and there is undeniable proof that you did. You also sexually abused a child – and not just any child, but one whose trust you should have guarded – your own. In some criminal cases there are gray areas, but not in yours. Yours is open and shut. You deserve to die, and you need to, to begin paying for your crimes, you evil, evil man.

Enter to Learn, Go Forth to Reproduce

Not to draw undue attention to my friend, who recently wrote a blog about dating, but she draws attention to herself all the time anyway, so I don't feel bad about it. :)

Now, this girl made a bet with her mom that she could date 100 different boys before she got married (date in the loosest sense of the word - she had to go out with 100 guys - so at least 100 first dates). Something like a real-life 50 First Dates (I haven't seen that movie, and I don't think I'm drawing a correct parallel, but it sounded good in my head).

Anyway, so when she made this bet, her mom must have been over the moon with happiness, because she knew her daughter was not going to get married her freshman year (did any of you even KNOW 100 different people your freshman year?). Now, 100 first dates, 41 (at least) second dates, and 10 "relationships" (as per her stats in her blog entry) later, she's graduated from BYU. Not married, not engaged, but now she has all these character traits in her head that she likes, each from a different one of the 100. Unfortunately, not one of them happens to have it all.
Her words: "...there does come a point when you have to realize that no one is perfect!!! Including me!!! So why am I still holding out, expecting to find it? Why do I keep walking away from incredible guys again and again?"

Now comes my opinion. I don't think it's her mother's bet that's the problem (entirely). I do think it plays a role. But there seems to be a general consensus among young, single, LDS adults - particularly BYU students - that we need perfection in a spouse.

Now, I'll tell you why I think this problem is exacerbated at BYU in particular. The reason is the dating culture. You probably think I mean the dating vs. hanging out bit, that Elder Oaks spoke of, but that's not what I mean. Sure, that's a problem, and will always be an issue. But the problem I see at BYU is that everyone is too good. Now I don't mean their morals are too good - you should always be true to your personal values and beliefs.

Allow me to illustrate.

Remember home? That place where you were the only Eagle Scout in your high school? The place where you were always asked to play the piano at ward functions? You were valedictorian and captain of the cheerleading squad. You were popular, you were friends with everyone, you were amazing! But here at BYU, you can barely maintain a C+ average, you have no time for extracurricular activities, hardly anyone knows you, and to top it all off, you realized that absolutely EVERYONE here plays the piano...better than you.

So you try hard to be even better than your best...because your best isn't good enough anymore. And you begin to expect more from people - particularly the people you date. But not more in the good sense of the word - you've always expected your future spouse would be strong in the gospel, would be a good mother or father, faithful to you, true to his/her convictions. But now you expect him to play the guitar and write you songs. You expect her to wear trendy, cute clothes, sing, and go snowboarding with you. In other words, you begin to expect all kinds of things that you didn't expect before.

Now, new expectations alone aren't bad. The problem arises when your list gets so incredibly long that you become inflexible, and every item on the list becomes an essential. You have to remember that no one will have all the qualities and traits you want. The difficulty is selecting the few, most important ones you can't live without. This may sound like common sense to many of you out there, but trust me - in Provo, it's not.

BYU has conditioned us to think that there will be someone a little better just around the bend. Someone with more of the qualities you want. But here is my unsolicited advice - you need to get over it and realize that person does not exist. Instead, find someone who fits you, someone you can talk to, someone you enjoy being with, someone with personal potential (because you marry who they can become), someone you can love. And don't dismiss them right away because you think they're not a perfect fit. First impressions are not always right. And if you're not careful, remember that you might just look around the next bend and find there isn't ANYone there.