Bryce Moore's Blog, page 195

The Internet is Ruining Our Lives (Or is it Just Me?)

Okay. Maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement, but let’s face it: nobody reads anything these days unless it’s something You Won’t Believe. And while those click-bait headlines are annoying, they’re not what I want to talk about today.

No, I want to focus on something that happened to me yesterday while I was putting MC into her car seat. My car is a Honda Civic, and they ain’t exactly spacious in the back seat department, so when you’ve already got a car seat back there, and then I cram myself into it along with a two year old, I’m already predisposed to be on the grumpy side. And then the car seat straps were so tight, trying to get MC in there was a job and a half.

I was frustrated, and I was angry with the internet.

Why?

Because the internet is always here to tell us all the Right Way to Do Things. There are all these helpful articles about how to do everything or (what I’m more focused on) about how *not* to do everything.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my child, and I definitely want her to be safe in the car. But some of those articles about how to make sure a child is safe in a car seat make it sound like unless they’re surgically bolted directly to the car’s frame, then they’re a whisker away from certain doom. And maybe they are. I’m no expert. But I do know that I’ve got my daughter still facing backward long after she turned 2, because that’s safer. And I have the straps tight enough to choke a horse, because otherwise she might go sailing off into the great beyond if I brake too hard. And why do I do all these things?

Because the internet told me to. And once I know there’s a right way, how can I do it any other way?

Let’s stop using car seats as an example, because while they might be what led me to this thought, they’re also not something I’m really considering switching my approach to. Anything to make my kids safer is a real keeper. But think about all the other “how to” columns out there. All the Pinterest pages on how to make things cuter. The articles about how something you’ve always done is actually bad or wrong or whatever.

At what point does all this information become just too much? Or maybe this is just a me problem. I know that one of my quirks is that I really like doing things the Best Way. I like to research something to death, making sure I buy the right garden hose, or the best cake pan. I focus on little details, even when they don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. But instead of being able to just brush off the small things and not worry about what I do, the knowledge that there’s inevitably a bit of information out there that will tell me what I ought to be buying or doing makes me freeze up and go into this information-search overload mode.

And sometimes, there really is no clean cut “best.” So it’s an exercise in futility.

My brother in law reminded me of this cartoon yesterday.

It’s funny, and true, but at the same time, after I thought about it for a while, I couldn’t help but see that maybe things were a bit easier then, because of that lack of information. You did things the best way you knew how. Maybe you asked some friends for advice. Maybe you checked a book out of the library if you were being really thorough. But in the end, you gave it your best shot, and you could rest assured that that was all you could do.

These days, there’s always something else to check. Some other resource you might have missed. And for what? So that you save a few more seconds of time, or are a fraction of a bit better at doing something?

I know I have to work on this. Recognizing when it’s worth it to keep looking for information, and when I should just sit back and stop worrying about it. Of course, recognizing you have a problem and actually doing something about it are two very different things.

I wonder if I can find an advice column about the best way to handle that . . .

Baman Piderman: Ever Heard of It?

I have to ask, people. Is anyone else’s kids addicted to Baman Piderman? Because mine definitely are. TRC came across them through his Nintendo 3DS video channel, and he and DC watch all the new episodes religiously. For those of you who don’t know what this is, it’s a web video series of badly drawn Batman and Spiderman characters who act very . . . floppy. And fairly stupid. Here’s the first episode.

I try to be a pretty “with it” dad, but this is one where I just haven’t been able to muster the same level of adoration that my kids have for something. They always love to show me the latest episodes, and I humor them, but I can’t help feeling like I’d rather be doing pretty much anything than watch them. They’re amusing enough, but . . .

And yet, I find myself quoting them, mainly because my kids quote them all the time. Especially from this episode. The line “Tanks, Pumpkin!”

So there’s the question: is this a nationwide thing, or are my kids just . . . unique in their tastes?

A Typical Work Day

Not that today is a typical work day. I’ll be in a library retreat the whole day. But I’m always interested in seeing what typical days are like for other people, and I thought today might be a good day to discuss that. Basically, I’m going to outline what a usual day looks like for me. I’m a creature of habit, and so the things I do from day to day are often the same things, right down to the time of day I do them. If you’d like to play along, I’d love having a similar run down from anyone else. Just a chance to see how other people run their lives. People can have all sorts of jobs and lifestyles, but in the end, it comes down to the same typical days. How different are they really?

Here’s mine.

Wake up at 5:55am. Shower and eat breakfast (cup of raw oatmeal, uncooked, with milk and some raisins). Read scriptures while I eat. Check social media after that’s done. (I check FB and Twitter, my email, read Dilbert, check Slickdeals for anything I might want to buy, check my fantasy baseball team’s performance, read up on the Yankees game, check the Amazon deal of the day, and maybe the news. All on my iPhone.)
Get to work at 6:45am. Catch up with my co-manager on what’s going on in the library and touch base on any important things that are coming up. I then head into my office and get my computer going. Two days a week, I have to open the building–turn on the lights and computers, check that everything’s in order, etc. While the computer gets going, I’ll check some news sites on my iPad. CNN, Deseret News, local papers, Gamespot, Magic the Gathering news, the weather.
Work is a variety of tasks. I usually have a fair bit of email that needs answering, phone calls to make, and paperwork to get finished. I might have classes to teach or things to plan for the library or campus changes. I check technology and library blogs to see what new trends are upcoming. I usually have 1 or 2 meetings each day as well.
11am–Eat my snack. Almost always a banana. Exciting.
12pm–Lunch. I jog in place for exercise for about a half hour, then lift weights. All in my office while I watch Netflix with the door closed. (Yay for no windows to the main part of the library!) I blog around this time, as well, or at the very least I try to post whatever I blogged ahead of time.
1pm–Back to work. Other stuff I do includes library statistics, prepping for the classes I teach, communicating with faculty, answering technology issues that arise for staff or students, advising some students, helping staff the library desk.
4pm–I leave work to go home. I park as far away on campus as I can, in an effort to force myself to get more exercise. With walking and driving, it’s a 15 minute commute.
4:15pm–Get home and work on my writing for about an hour. If I really have my stuff together, I might have gotten to work early and gotten some writing done at work. But these days I typically haven’t.
5:30pm–Eat dinner with the family. We’re almost always all there. Half the time we eat at the table, half the time we eat while we watch something. Movies, Cutthroat Kitchen, Amazing Race. Whatever we’re all in the mood for.
7pm–I play with the kids some, or we keep watching something, depending. Minecraft, Magic, read to someone. Sometimes I’m just wiped after work, and I spend a while lying in my bed and cooling off. If I don’t get that time to wind down, I can be a bit of a jerk sometimes in the evening. I don’t like that about myself, but there you have it. Working on that.
8pm–Watch something with Denisa. MC is in bed, the other kids are reading and getting themselves ready for bed. We’ll fit in a movie or an episode or two of something. Sometimes this doesn’t happen until 9.
10pm–In bed, reading until I’m tired enough to go fall asleep. Lights are off, and I’m just reading my Kindle. As soon as I’m sleepy, it’s Kindle down and eyes closed. It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep if I’m in this rhythm.

And then I repeat the same thing the next day. There are some variances for weekly events. Denisa gets bread ready Tuesday and Thursday evenings. She sometimes goes out on Tuesday evenings to church activities or Wednesdays to church meetings. I go and play Magic with Tomas on Friday evenings. But for the most part, that outline above is my day, Monday through Friday. It’s nothing too thrilling, but I’m quite fond of it, personally. I like the routine, and I love the fact that what I do feels like it’s contributing to society. I’m helping students get degrees and be prepared to have successful lives. It’s nice to remember that when I’m frustrated with things that might pop up.

How different is my typical day from yours?

Pick Your Own YA Fantasy: Part 14

[Welcome to part fourteen of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, and part 13.]

In the end, of course, everyone went through the door. John swung it wide, and it revealed a midnight black nothingness, almost as if he’d opened a door onto a piece of black velvet. Not that it was just a dark room: it shimmered around the edges when you weren’t looking at it, and made you frightened to turn your back on it at all, as if something might jump out from it at any moment.

The four of them eyed it all together, with no one speaking up or volunteering to go first.

“On second thought,” Harvey said at last, “maybe I don’t want to go in so bad. I think I left a rotting leg somewhere back a ways. I could really go for a little nibble right about now, and I don’t–”

“Don’t be a baby,” Marvin snapped at him, then stared at John. “We’re coming in.”

And while Harvey moaned and complained a little, he followed through on the commitment.

It was a tight fit for Marvin, but the sphinx turned out to be quite flexible when it came to doorways. The fact that it was a passageway into a different dimension probably also had something to do with it. John let Liese go first. He wasn’t sure if that was the gentlemanly thing to do, since the phrase “ladies first” might not exactly apply when you were heading into what could turn out to be a deadly situation, but he’d hesitated before going through, and Liese didn’t wait for him at all. Once she had gone, Marvin and Harvey ended up shouldering their way ahead of John as well, so he turned out to be the last person to enter the portal.

The first step was the worst one.

The moment his toe touched the darkness, it felt like someone had taken that toe, strapped it to a rocket full to the brim with explosive fuel, and launched it to another planet. Instantly. It was as if he were in one room and his toe was in a different galaxy, but still attached to him.

“Painful” would definitely describe the experience.

But once his toe had gone on for the ride, there was nothing he could do to stop. For one thing, who wants to end up down a toe for the rest of their life? For another, that toe was still affixed to his foot, and it dragged his foot after it. The foot took the ankle, the ankle took the leg, and then the whole body sort of launched into it at once.

Having half your brain in one area and the other half in another isn’t something most people would enjoy. John certainly didn’t. So he can’t quite be blamed for being a little out of it when he showed up on the other end of the portal, his eyelids fluttering, his muscles twitching, and his toe wondering what took him so long.

After about a minute, he was recovered enough to look around and see what he’d gotten himself into. It was a room, identical to the one he’d just left, except for a few minor tweaks. The exit was on the opposite wall, the place was well-lit with at least twenty torches, and the only other person in the room was a knocked out Liese.

John blinked and rushed over to her side. “Liese?” he said as he knelt next to her. Had it been something about the teleportation process? Where were Marvin and Harvey? Maybe they’d gotten lost. Maybe John was the only one who was supposed to have gone. Maybe–

Liese groaned and sat up, holding her head. “When I catch those two, they’re going to wish they’d stayed behind.”

John frowned at her. “What?”

“Marvin and Harvey,” Liese said. “The two of them showed up when I was still twitchy, and Marvin knocked me to the ground before hurrying off with Harvey to who knows where.”

“Wait a minute.”

The two of us looked up, surprised by the new voice. It was Khalid, the djinn. He had popped into being in midair, and now was scowling down at us. “Did you say Marvin and Harvey?” he asked.

We nodded. “Is that bad?” I asked.

Khalid shook his head. “The job was for you to come here alone, John. It’s one thing to bring a girl with you. But to bring the two most notorious grave robbers in Egyptian history? What were you thinking?”

John sat down on the ground, more than a little stunned. “The two of them were guarding the entrance,” I said.

“Wrong,” Khalid said. “The two of them were waiting for someone like you to let them through. I purposefully trapped the door so that it would kill anyone other than someone I had approved if they tried to open it. Those two clowns have been there for centuries waiting to get in.”

Liese got to her feet and stepped toward the djinn. “And you only thought to mention this now?”

Khalid shrugged. “I’d been baking a cake when John interrupted me. Cut me some slack.”

John stood as well. “So what do we do?” I asked. “Why are they here?”

“To loot the Library, of course,” Khalid said. He took a deep breath and stood straighter, clearly trying to put a better spin on things. “Though they’ll have to deal with the mummy horde as well. It’s just one more thing for you to worry about. I’m sure you’ll manage it. Besides, now that we’re here, I can help you more.”

“How?” John asked.

“By giving you a superpower.” Khalid smiled broadly, spreading his arms wide. He didn’t say anything else. Just stood there looking happy.

“Which one?” John asked at last.

“Anything you ask me for. But it’s the only one you get. That was the deal with your uncle.”

John thought about it for a moment. “Anything? So if I want to be able to turn invisible . . .”

“Then that’s what I’ll let you do,” Khalid said. “But consider it carefully. You only get one shot at this, and I won’t let you switch it back. Remember, you’ll have a mummy horde, a conniving sphinx, and a very hungry crocodile to deal with, not to mention a slew of booby traps and unexpected surprises. Try to pick something that’s versatile.”

In the distance, something shuffled. Not just something, somethings. Many of them. There might have been a few groans in there as well. The noise sent shivers down John’s spine.

“What was that?” Liese asked.

“The mummy horde,” Khalid said. “Sounds like they might be coming this way, so you’d better make that choice snappy.”

Make a Choice

Nominations welcome, popular vote wins. Have at you!

Book Review: Seveneves

Seveneves by Neal Stephenson

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Neal Stephenson isn’t an author for everyone, but he is definitely an author for me. So if you’ve already read a Stephenson book and didn’t enjoy the experience, I don’t really think this book will be the one that changes your mind. That said, if you’ve never read one and are looking for one to start with, this is a great place to begin.

Not that his books are all part of a series or anything. They’re all standalone science fiction novels. But many of them have extremely steep learning curves: Stephenson jumps right into the middle of an unfamiliar world with strange terms and customs, and you’re expected to flounder for a while until you get your bearings.

Some people hate that feeling. I get that. But the lovely thing about his books is the way it all comes together untl you’re zooming along, understanding these very hard to describe concepts easily. The destination is worth the journey, peoples.

Seveneves starts quite simply: one day in the not too distant future, the moon explodes. The rest of the book centers around that one event, looking scientifically at the results and then dealing dramatically with how the human race would cope with those effects.

It sounds easy. It’s not. About a third of the way through the book, I wondered what in the world the rest of the novel would be about. It seemed like everything was getting resolved, and it was all coming together.

Boy, was I wrong.

I really enjoyed this novel. It’s intriguing from start to finish, and I found myself sneaking in chapters and pages whenever I could during the day. Books like that–books that *demand* to be read–are just such a blast when you get hold of one, and this puppy’s like that for over 800 pages!

So check it out if you’re looking for a great science fiction adventure. It has a bit of language, but not much else other than a great time.

View all my reviews

How to Not Go to the Beach

We’ve been planning a trip to the beach for a while now, and July 4th had been circled on our calendar for quite some time. We even hyped it up with the kids, and they were getting pretty excited. DC was going on and on about how she was looking forward to seeing all the palm trees and eating coconuts as if they were apples. (We did try to convince her that Maine beaches have no palm trees, and that coconuts aren’t *quite* like apples. She acknowledged that mentally, but I think she was still holding out for a chance that we were wrong.)

Anyway. The night before the big trip, we checked the weather one more time. Because this is Maine, and you never know. Survey said? 71 and mostly cloudy. For some Mainers, that’s ideal beach weather. For us?

We were thinking we’d need to go with a plan B. Our kids really wanted to swim in the ocean, and that sounded like a less than ideal temperature for that. But how do you change directions on a day that you’d hyped up to your kids to be one specific thing? My kids (TRC in particular) handle changes in plans about as well as I do. Meaning they don’t.

Still, Denisa and I tossed some ideas around, and in the morning, we presented them to the kids. We could either go to the beach as planned and not worry about the cold, or we could go with the alternative: everyone would get to pick two activities to do that day, and we’d all do them. No chores to get done. And a $50 budget, which is more or less what we’d planned for the day trip to the beach. The kids loved that idea, and so we ran with it. What did we end up doing?

Scavenger hunt–I went with DC and Denisa went with TRC and MC, and we each had to take pictures of items that started with each letter of the alphabet, starting with A and going in order to Z. We all started downtown, and the first team done won. This needed no prep time at all, and the kids had a blast. We were done in about 20 minutes, and it felt very race like, since our downtown is quite small, and we kept running into each other. Would totally do this one again.
Buy treats for a movie night–Take the kids to the store, let them pick whatever they want. Pretty simple, and very popular.
Picnic lunch–Denisa made asiago cheese rolls for everyone. Always tasty.
Swimming in the river–We called an audible on this one. Partway through the day, friends called and invited us to swim in the Sandy River. We had planned to go to the park and then do some crafts after that (MC and DC’s choices), but they decided to swap those choices for this one. It went very well. The water was nippy, but not too bad.
Board Game Tournament–Pick a bunch of games. One person chooses one to start, and from there on, the winner of the last game picks the next game we play. Always a fun time in my house.
Shopping spree–TRC and DC each got $10 to spend how they wanted. I took TRC to Walmart. He didn’t like any of his options, so they both ended up deciding to bank their money for a future purchase. Fine in my book.
Movie night at home with popcorn–The kids chose Winnie the Pooh. They’ve got great taste, what can I say?

In the end, I think the day succeeded mainly by deciding to treat it as a different day. As something special. Pretending we were away from the house, and so we weren’t responsible for our regular duties. It worked really well, and we’ll definitely try it again next time.

Unless it’s actually warm. In that case, we’ll go to the beach.

Good Communities Need Good Schools

A bit of a local digression today, but it’s a local issue that no doubt touches on situations elsewhere as well. A few weeks ago, voters in my school district shot down the proposed budget for the upcoming school year. It caught me by surprise. I think I do a fairly good job keeping an ear out for upcoming problems, and I hadn’t known the school budget was in the crosshairs for anyone this year. In the past, when there’s a big budget brouhaha (BBB), it’s typically plastered all over Facebook or the local online paper, and I get involved.

No BBB this time, which means it took me by surprise. I didn’t vote. And so I’m partly to blame for the budget not passing.

Because it should have passed. Make no bones about it. I know and respect a lot of the members of the school board, and they worked their tails off on that thing. (Seriously. None of them have any tails at all. No horns either, for that matter.) The schools in Maine are in a tight spot. They’re constantly receiving less funding from the state, and costs for providing a quality education are only going up. This wasn’t a huge increase in the budget.

But some locals don’t see it that way. They only look at the bottom line of how much property tax they pay, and they get angry. They want taxes to stay level or go down. They don’t have kids in the school district. When they went to school, all they needed was a chalkboard and an eraser. Why does school have to be so expensive now? Clearly, the school board isn’t doing its job.

I hear those arguments, and it takes a fair bit of willpower not to lose my cool. The same arguments are used to try and slash public library budgets, or try to do away with the university here in town. It’s pennywise and pound foolish.

Good communities need good schools, plain and simple.

When people are moving to an area, they look at the school district. They want to know their children are going to be taken care of and well educated, because that’s key to a successful future. If they see a school district that’s poorly rated or underfunded, they might well look elsewhere to move. “Fine,” the naysayers say. “We didn’t want them here anyway. Keep the out of towners out of town.”

Some people just can’t be reasoned with. You lose new people coming in, you lose taxes coming in. You lose people who are ready to shop at local businesses. You lose your community.

The saddest thing about all of this is that the only real argument we should have to make is that our children need a good education, and that costs money. Not tons of money, but money. Our school district spends 12% less than the average school district in Maine.

As a result of the vote, the school board has now eliminated at least $200,000 from the budget, it looks like, and people are clamoring for more. “At least a million,” is the number I keep hearing bandied about. That’s money that our students won’t be getting. Opportunities my children will be missing out on. My hope is this is a wake up call to all reasonable-minded people in the district. I know it is for me. We need to get out there and vote. Every. Single. Year. Because a few people shouldn’t control the future of our communities. If the majority votes against it, so be it. At least we’ll know where we stand. But I have to believe that in this case, the majority just stayed home and assumed everything was fine.

We can’t do that. Make sure to get out and vote at the end of next month. If you need any more reason, just read over some of the comments on that local article I linked to in the last paragraph. If that isn’t enough for you, try the comments on this article or this article. I’m not arguing that people who aren’t supporting the increase are ignorant or uneducated, but I’m definitely arguing that they’re short sighted.

Comments welcome. Keep them civil if they come in, however.

Pick Your Own YA Fantasy: Part 13

[Welcome to part thirteen of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, and part 12.]

Imagine you’re standing in front of an electrified door going at full volt, crackling with energy and lightning, and you’re told you have to touch the chair. What’s the scariest result you could imagine? As John reached out for the door knob, several scenarios flashed through his mind. The electricity jolting through his body. The room exploding with some unknown energy. The door opening to a scene from the underworld, full of fire and demons.

What he wasn’t expecting was for all the electricity to vanish the moment his hand touched the knob. It was as if someone had turned off a switch somewhere.

“Great.” Harvey the mummified crocodile sounded put out. “We don’t even get a good grilling.”

“Quiet, Harv,” Marvin the sphinx told him. “We’re side characters. Let the kid have his story.”

John glanced back at the two of them and frowned. Having someone having a chit chat while he was trying to do important things was distracting and inappropriate.

“Sorry,” Harvey said. “Didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”

John’s frown deepened. Was the crocodile a psychic too?

Marvin shrugged, his enormous leonine shoulders rippling in the torchlight that might or might not have been there last time. “He was just conversing with the narrator, is all. Harvey likes a good narrator.”

“They taste like chicken,” the crocodile explained. “And I ain’t even sure if I should even know what a chicken tastes like, anachronistically speaking. Also, did I have an accent last time?”

“No,” Liese said, confused. “I don’t think you did.”

The croc sniffed. “Always wanted an accent. One of them Cockney ones like Dick Van Dyke pretended he had in that movie with the parrot umbrella.”

Marvin sighed. “I loved that umbrella. So witty.”

John turned to face the two of them. “Do you mind?”

Harvey’s eyes widened. “Not a fan of children’s movies, are you? More of an action connoisseur?”

“No,” John said. “It’s just the two of you are completely distracting this story from what it’s supposed to be about. Me. An adventure for me. Did your uncle win a djinn in a poker game?”

“No,” Marvin admitted.

“And were you tasked with returning this book thing to the library place?” John asked.

Harvey sighed. “No.”

John nodded. “Okay then. I’m glad that’s settled. The two of you are just supposed to be here as a temporary obstacle I have to overcome so that this story feels appropriately difficult.”

Liese shook her head. “I don’t think that’s quite right. I mean, I can see where Marvin came into play. Sphinxes and riddles. It makes sense that he’d be an obstacle. But Harvey just came out of nowhere.”

Now the crocodile was almost crying. “Out of nowhere, says she. As if I haven’t had an entire afterlife full of rotting dreams and desires. As if I’m just some flat thing that don’t even deserve to be in this story at all.”

Marvin bowed his head and patted the crocodile with a paw the size of a dinnerplate. “Don’t let it get to you, Harvey. Side characters have rights too. People will see that. Someday.”

The crocodile shrugged off the pat. “I don’t want to wait for some la-di-da someday in the future. I want a story of me own. You and I could do this, mate. All we have to do is return the book, right. And the little blighter admitted last episode he didn’t want nothing to do with this story. He could give us the book, and we could do this adventure all on our lonesome.”

“Listen,” Liese snapped in, her voice sharp and demanding. “The two of you aren’t derailing anything. John and I are going through that door, and we’re having this adventure. I’m the voice of reason in this story. John’s supposed to listen to me and take my advice.”

“You’ve been wrong before,” Marvin said.

“I heard tell you almost ended up being a French bloke,” the crocodile added. “Seems a mite bit uncertain to me.”

“Yeah?” Liese said, hands on her hips. “Well you’ve got names that don’t even fit the plot. Harvey and Marvin? Where did you come up with those? They’re not Egyptian.”

“No they ain’t,” the crocodile said. “But let’s just say their former owners weren’t using them no more.” He and the sphinx chuckled softly and even tried to give each other a high five. It didn’t quite work. Harvey had trouble turning his foot around properly, and it ended up being more of an awkward fist bump than anything else.

“Can we be quiet?” John called out, his voice echoing through the room. The door behind him gave a small crackle, almost as if it was a bit put out that everyone had forgotten about it. Liese, Marvin, and Harvey turned to John and studied him, but they didn’t say anything, which was nice. “Thank you,” John continued. “Now. I have to get home. The only way home is to get that djinn to show up and alakazam me there, unless any of you has a plane ticket and taxi fare stashed away somewhere? No? Well, the djinn said he’d meet me in the library, so that’s where I need to go. I’m going to go there. Liese will come with me. Marvin and Harvey, you’re welcome to come too. What do I care? The more the merrier, if you can fit through the door.” He eyed Marvin’s bulk skeptically. “But look at us. We’ve gone on for almost a thousand words, and we haven’t advanced the plot at all. We’re at the exact spot we left off last week. So could we please stop arguing about anachronisms and who’s doing what, and start actually doing things? This story’s turning into a complete mess.”

Everyone thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “An entertaining mess, though,” Harvey added.

“As opposed to what it was before we showed back up,” Marvin muttered.

“Excuse me?” John said.

“Nothing!” the sphinx called out. “Just agreeing with your plan. All for one. One for all. Good thing I have my own personal library down here and that I subscribe to books by mail, or people might start wondering how in the world I just made a Dumas reference.”

“Whatever,” John said. “Anyone who’s coming, come on.”

Survey Says?

So, dear readers, is John going with just Liese, or will Marvin and/or Harvey join them on the adventure?

On Gay Marriage, Bigotry, and a Lack of Skittle-iciousness

I debated writing this post. Any sort of response to the gay marriage ruling wasn’t likely to win me any friends on either side of the issue, because it’s one where I’m pretty squarely in the middle (as I’ve established previously). Re-reading that post, I find that it still sums up my feelings and outlook well. Gay marriage is legal in the whole country now, and I’ve been watching the outpouring of joy from most of my Facebook feed with a strange mixture of emotions: joy for my friends who have this long-sought for goal, and some measure of guilt for not being right there with them, turning my Facebook profile pic all rainbowy.

(Guilty. That’s a strong word, and I looked around for a different one to stick there, but that’s the closest word I can come to, so it’ll have to do for now. If I feel guilty for not going out there and celebrating along with everyone else, why don’t I just give in, say I’m wrong, and sidestep the guilt? My earlier post (linked above) should establish why, for those wondering.)

At the same time, I’ve seen plenty of posts by other friends. Friends who are very upset (to put it mildly) about this court ruling. And I’ve seen yet other posts by friends who feel bad that they’re being called bigots because they don’t support gay marriage. I can relate to those posts, of course. I don’t think of myself as a bigot, and I feel bad that people might think I am one because of a religious belief.

Honestly, I think I’ve been more on edge since the ruling for this very reason. Every time I see a friend with a rainbow picture, I’m reminded of the fact that I *don’t* have a rainbow picture. And I wonder what those friends are thinking about me when they see my lack of Skittle-iciousness. No one has said one word to me about it. No one has told me I ought to be thinking something or saying something or doing something. This is all a self-imposed mix of feelings. But it’s constant and sort of always there to the point that I’m grouchier than normal.

My knee-jerk reaction is to be angry against the imaginary people who are judging me. (A sentence that might qualify me for psychiatric help all on its own.) I see those “I’m not a bigot” posts, and I want to loudly echo them. But I haven’t. Why not?

Let me set the stage.

I’m feeling self-conscious because I’m in the minority. Many of my friends think a certain belief I have is wrong, close-minded, and petty. I can stand up and say “I’m not a bigot” as much as I’d like, but generally speaking, the only people who have to do that (go around reminding everyone that they’re not bigots) are . . . bigots. At least from a public perception. That doesn’t mean I’m going to switch my viewpoint, but it does mean that popular opinion has decided a view I have is “wrong.”

As I was thinking this through the other day, it dawned on me that this pervasive low level of shame or guilt or self-doubt or whatever you want to call it might in some way mirror (to a small extent) the same concoction of feelings gays have struggled with for decades. Of being continually in the minority. Of having people label you and define you and attribute all sorts of things to you that you just don’t agree with. The shoe’s on the other foot now. How do ya like them apples?

I doubt that statement will go over too well with the people who are against gay marriage, but it’s not like the public perception of homosexuality was peachy keen with gay people, either. It was much, much more severe for them.

Does this mean that I’m going to change my mind? No, but it’s difficult. It’s difficult because Mormons have changed their stance on social issues in the past, and I don’t know if this is another one of those instances or not. The same rhetoric that was used against gay marriage had been used against interracial marriage in the past. Today, I look back at those statements and just shake my head, dismayed my church could espouse those views. (So if they were so wrong, why didn’t God tell them to switch earlier? I can’t help but wonder if the sad truth is that God realized too many members of the church were racist. That to change the views too soon would rip the church apart. Is the same true today?)

Then again, there are other times when the church has held firm in its beliefs, regardless of the changes of popular perception. Prohibition came and went, after all. And it doesn’t matter how much the rest of the country guzzles down coffee, we still don’t drink it. Abortion continues to be an area with a whole slew of debate. Is gay marriage going to settle down into that Cold War status? I’m not sure.

Part of it depends on where it goes from here. When interracial marriage bans were deemed unconstitutional, Bob Jones University (which prohibited interracial marriage or dating among its students) lost its tax exempt status. Could the same challenge be leveled against BYU in the future, if BYU doesn’t allow a gay, married student to attend? I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer. But I could see the argument being made. The public perception of gay marriage and gay rights has changed so rapidly, it’s hard for me not to believe that ten years from now, any institution that refuses to acknowledge gay marriage will be labeled by almost everyone as bigoted as an institution that would disavow interracial marriage would be today.

So maybe I have years of this conflicted feeling to look forward to. Joy.

In any event, this post has gone on long enough at this point. I mainly wrote it to try and capture and analyze my feelings at the moment. It helps me to write out my thoughts and look at them objectively. Please keep discussion civil on both sides of the aisle, and thanks for hearing me out.

Raising Children: As Simple as “Sit and Stay?”

Denisa was at the bank with MC the other day, getting some errands done. She had MC sit and fold her arms on a chair in the waiting area while Denisa went to the counter. (Small town = almost always empty bank.) The teller was amazed at how patient and well-behaved MC was, and asked Denisa how in the world she got her to do that. Denisa didn’t really know what to say, and when she told me the story later that evening, my first impulse was to shrug and say, “If a dog can be trained to sit and stay in one spot, a child can be trained to do the same thing.” (See? And you thought I wasn’t able to censor myself in public. Imagine how much trouble I could get myself into if I always said exactly what I thought off the cuff.)

After I said it and thought about it, however, I realized that really wasn’t a fair statement to make. I have experience raising three genetically similar children, and that’s it. My personal experience is going to be different than a wide array of other people out there, people who come from different backgrounds and experiences. Just because something has worked one way in my own life doesn’t mean it could or should or would have worked the same way for someone else.

But sometimes I have a hard time remembering that.

We like to be able to reduce complex things down to basic steps. That’s how there are so many “how to” books on everything ranging from grilling to raising children. (Pro-tip: don’t mix those two up.) But while some things are pretty straightforward and easy to replicate, others just aren’t.

And yet it’s hard not to wonder what someone is doing when she can just have her 2 year old sit and stay quiet and well behaved for 10 minutes by herself, with nothing to do other than watch what people in the bank are doing. And really, children who can master the “sit and stay” principle seem (in my experience) to have such a leg up on children who can’t. Think about how much in life comes down to being able to sit and stay, whether it’s learning in school, getting your job done at work, or staying focused on finishing a chore or a goal, being able to stay focused on it is a huge piece of actually finishing it.

When Denisa and I lived in Utah, we had a friend who had a dog. An awesomely rambunctious dog who loved to get into everything and run everywhere. He had so much energy, you’d think he’d never be able to sit and stay anywhere. But our friend had a grown son who had spent a lot of time with that dog. When the son was around? That dog was pure obedience. He would sit calmly and stay where he was told. He would do what he was asked. It was like the dog had an entirely different personality when the son was around. What was the biggest difference? From what I could see, it’s that the son was consistent in his expectations and demands. The dog knew the rules around him, and knew what would happen if he broke them. (No beatings or anything. Nothing violent. Just simple rewards.)

Honestly, that’s the example that always springs to mind when I think about raising children, fair or not. People ask Denisa and I what we did to have well behaved children. My first response is to put a big disclaimer out: we have no idea what they’ll be like as teenagers. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. It hasn’t yet, but that doesn’t mean I stop worrying about it.

My second response? Denisa and I have almost always been on the same page with our kids. We discuss family rules and consequences, and then we stick to those rules and consequences across the board. If we say it, we do it. Sometimes that’s easy. Sometimes that’s hard. But it’s worked for us so far.

The problem is, I know other parents who have tried the same thing and been unsuccessful. It isn’t fair to say that they’re unsuccessful because they’re doing it wrong. I don’t know what they’re doing, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Still, when they ask me what they can be doing differently, I don’t really have anything else to add. I know what worked for my children. That doesn’t always transfer to other people’s experiences.

And that’s a principle I wish I’d see a bit more of in public discourse these days. Remembering that individual experiences can’t and shouldn’t be used as a basis for judgement. Mainly because (in my experience), people are quick to give loved ones a pass on those judgements, but don’t offer strangers the same wiggle room.

Anyway. A bit of a convoluted post for you this fine Monday, but then, my brain’s feeling a bit convoluted, so I suppose it stands to reason this would be the result.