My Dear Reader,
Apparently, I was so caught up in graduation mumbo-jumbo that I completely forgot that Plain Vanilla's one year anniversary was coming up. Well, Gentle Reader, I am sorry to say that the time has passed. It's been an eventful year though, hasn't it? I've been a blogger since 2003, but I got the idea for Plain Vanilla sometime around February 2007, and after a couple of months of preparation, I first published on April 10th, 2007. It seems like a long time ago.
For me, Plain Vanilla was always a lot more than just a way for me to get my thoughts out there; it was a way for me to create a voice and share it with others, even strangers. It was a kind of experiment in progress, to see if I had the ability to document my life in a way that would be interesting to other people, whether they knew me or not. If I could do that, I could prove that every life has value and is worth writing and reading about, even if they just happened to be middle class and white. At the same time, I do consider myself a writer, and creating a blog and promising to update every Tuesday was a way to force myself to continue to write on a regular basis. By now, I have 61 more writing samples to add to my writing portfolio, which have been well-received as far as I can tell.
Plain Vanilla hasn't exactly catapulted into the stratosphere or anything, but it has certainly done well for itself. My first and most supportive fans have been my family and friends, without whom I probably wouldn't have continued. (There's no point in writing if you don't think anyone is reading.) Of course, other people have stumbled on the site through one means or another, whether it was a random search, word of mouth, or the recent and very generous mention by Bloggernacle. That means that even though I only update once a week, I get an average of 20 site visitors a day. Sure, it's not hundreds, but it's not that shabby either. These visitors come from both coasts and everywhere in between, and even outside of the U.S., including such countries as Canada, Brazil, Korea, and Norway.
This next year should be promising, as I have a lot planned for Plain Vanilla. A new site design will definitely pop up in the near future, hopefully by the end of the summer. By that time, I would like to have a professional domain name site and move the entire blog there. The site would have biographical information as well as a portfolio of writing samples, Plain Vanilla included. It's even possible that I might start posting more than once a week, with the added content in either the usual format, or possibly as videos or a podcast (PetiteSoeur has suggested that the two of us start a radio show, but she's going to Paris in September, so we'll see). Nothing is certain, but the future is certainly limitless. My goal for this year was to create a base of readers, and since I think that this goal has definitely been accomplished, the next step would be to move this blog into a larger sphere. And since I am now a college graduate in need of a job, hopefully this blog will eventually aid me monetarily in some way or another (I tried putting Google Ads on the site, but I pulled them after I realized that they were less than praiseworthy). If that doesn't happen, though, I'll keep going, as I've come to find these weekly entries incredibly rewarding.
I have one short term goal that is definitely going to be good news for you, Gentle Reader: posting earlier in the day. I managed to get a post out almost every Tuesday last year, but you may have noticed that some were posted at 11:59 P.M. Hopefully this will soon be a thing of the past, especially since Blogger has added a new feature that allows me to finish my posts early and schedule them to be automatically posted at the appropriate time. It's a lot better than trying to figure out what to write at ten on Tuesday night.
So, to celebrate a year of Plain Vanilla, I'd like to list my five personal favorite entries so far. Hopefully they will give you a taste of where we have been and where we can go:
Laundry Memories
My Secret Identity
Thank You, Mr. Spock
Sister Moment #4: "Help, I'm Dying!"
The Break-Up
Regards, best wishes, and milestones,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Graduation Ceremonies
Dear Reader,
As you probably are aware, I'm getting my bachelor's degree this week, which means that I am obligated to go through the entire graduation ritual that scholars and teenagers have been going through for ages. The funny thing is that this time, I'm kind of looking forward to it. That's a big change from high school, when the only reason I went to graduation had to do with the fact that my grandparents came all the way from Oregon to see the ceremony. I complained a lot, though, as if that would make up for it. I remember that while we were practicing to graduate from high school, the one thing that one of the guidance counselors* kept telling us was that the day wasn't about us; it was about our parents. I think that made me a little more mad, but it eventually made me go through with it. It ended up not being that horrible.
Still, I had some friends offer to come and watch me graduate this time, which was really kind of them. But in the back of my mind I was thinking, "You want to sit in a metal chair for two hours just to see me walk across a stage for five seconds?" My friends are really supportive of me, but I don't think that I would ever make the same offer if I were in their shoes. I just don't think that it's worth it.
I think that all of this graduation hatred comes from my days as a band geek/nerd, and was forced to play one graduation ceremony every year between the ages of twelve and seventeen. I loved band, but graduation meant one thing: "Pomp and Circumstance," which just so happens to be the most boring, stupid, and lame song to ever be conceived by mankind. In order to truly appreciate the horror that accompanies this song, imagine playing it over, and over, and over again while you watch the people in caps and gowns walk in as if they were holy people. Are they coming in triumphantly? No. The song does not allow triumph, just pomp, with perhaps a dash of circumstance. And as you are playing this boring song for the twentieth time, your band leader says:
"Play, kids! Play until your lips fall off! Play until you bleed!"
Meanwhile, little Manny passes out and knocks over Amy's tuba.
And then you wish your lips were actually bleeding so you could claim cruel and unusual punishment and get the heck out of there, because band night has suddenly turned into a very deadly game of Survivor: Graduation. The last one standing wins the apathy of hundreds.
Now, something you have to know, Gentle Reader, is that this was the culmination of four years of trying to convince two separate band teachers to switch the processional song to the theme from Indiana Jones. "Imagine the awesomeness," I would say, multiple times, in a very persuasive and soothing way. But it was to no avail! Apparently, if you don't play the song, it's not a real graduation. How incredibly (and by "incredibly," I mean "unbelievably") lame and pointless.
Of course, "Pomp and Circumstance" isn't the only lame thing about graduation. Part of it is how people tend to use graduations to try to make a big deal out of things that are essentially meaningless. For example, they decided to cancel PetiteSeour's junior high "graduation" after kids started showing up in limousines, wearing prom dresses. I hate to be blunt, but when you put that much importance into something that is really a grade promotion, people wonder if you're doing it because you're afraid it's the closest you'll get to graduating anything. And by "people," I mean that I wonder if you're afraid this is the closest you'll ever get to graduating everything. The next year at my graduation, the same families sent their older kids to my graduation wearing flip flops. Obviously in this community, the pressure's off once you're sixteen and still on school. After that, all schooling is optional, and high school graduation is just another reason to bring out various beverages that are alcoholic in nature.
On an unrelated issue, I recently discovered that my high school got a six out of ten rating by one of those school-rating websites. I thought they were very generous.
Anyway, after that explanation, I think that it's a little easier to understand why I wasn't initially excited about graduating again. It's so strange for me that I'm starting to actually look forward to it. I mean, this time I don't have to play in the band. (I did at my high school graduation. Again, lame.) And this time, I really feel like I've accomplished something, like my time was well-used, and that I have stuff ahead of me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I actually feel like celebrating this time, that I've actually achieved something. And since it's an academic achievement, I think that I can honor it in the way academics like honoring things.
I've spent a lot of time growing up by now, but it still never ceases to amaze me when I start looking forward to things that I utterly despise. And oddly enough, I think that my guidance counselor's advice still rings true. It really is their day, and my grandparents', who are driving out from Oregon again. And the rest of my family who will be attending. After all, my HermanaMayor is graduating with me, and we're the oldest, so it's kind of a big deal all around.
I wonder what my band teacher would think if he saw me right now.
Regards, best wishes, and real achievement,
-Cecily Jane
*In my high school, my guidance counselors had two jobs: first, convincing kids that they should go to college (which was a lot harder than you might think), and second, organizing graduation. They really put their hearts in it.
As you probably are aware, I'm getting my bachelor's degree this week, which means that I am obligated to go through the entire graduation ritual that scholars and teenagers have been going through for ages. The funny thing is that this time, I'm kind of looking forward to it. That's a big change from high school, when the only reason I went to graduation had to do with the fact that my grandparents came all the way from Oregon to see the ceremony. I complained a lot, though, as if that would make up for it. I remember that while we were practicing to graduate from high school, the one thing that one of the guidance counselors* kept telling us was that the day wasn't about us; it was about our parents. I think that made me a little more mad, but it eventually made me go through with it. It ended up not being that horrible.
Still, I had some friends offer to come and watch me graduate this time, which was really kind of them. But in the back of my mind I was thinking, "You want to sit in a metal chair for two hours just to see me walk across a stage for five seconds?" My friends are really supportive of me, but I don't think that I would ever make the same offer if I were in their shoes. I just don't think that it's worth it.
I think that all of this graduation hatred comes from my days as a band geek/nerd, and was forced to play one graduation ceremony every year between the ages of twelve and seventeen. I loved band, but graduation meant one thing: "Pomp and Circumstance," which just so happens to be the most boring, stupid, and lame song to ever be conceived by mankind. In order to truly appreciate the horror that accompanies this song, imagine playing it over, and over, and over again while you watch the people in caps and gowns walk in as if they were holy people. Are they coming in triumphantly? No. The song does not allow triumph, just pomp, with perhaps a dash of circumstance. And as you are playing this boring song for the twentieth time, your band leader says:
"Play, kids! Play until your lips fall off! Play until you bleed!"
Meanwhile, little Manny passes out and knocks over Amy's tuba.
And then you wish your lips were actually bleeding so you could claim cruel and unusual punishment and get the heck out of there, because band night has suddenly turned into a very deadly game of Survivor: Graduation. The last one standing wins the apathy of hundreds.
Now, something you have to know, Gentle Reader, is that this was the culmination of four years of trying to convince two separate band teachers to switch the processional song to the theme from Indiana Jones. "Imagine the awesomeness," I would say, multiple times, in a very persuasive and soothing way. But it was to no avail! Apparently, if you don't play the song, it's not a real graduation. How incredibly (and by "incredibly," I mean "unbelievably") lame and pointless.
Of course, "Pomp and Circumstance" isn't the only lame thing about graduation. Part of it is how people tend to use graduations to try to make a big deal out of things that are essentially meaningless. For example, they decided to cancel PetiteSeour's junior high "graduation" after kids started showing up in limousines, wearing prom dresses. I hate to be blunt, but when you put that much importance into something that is really a grade promotion, people wonder if you're doing it because you're afraid it's the closest you'll get to graduating anything. And by "people," I mean that I wonder if you're afraid this is the closest you'll ever get to graduating everything. The next year at my graduation, the same families sent their older kids to my graduation wearing flip flops. Obviously in this community, the pressure's off once you're sixteen and still on school. After that, all schooling is optional, and high school graduation is just another reason to bring out various beverages that are alcoholic in nature.
On an unrelated issue, I recently discovered that my high school got a six out of ten rating by one of those school-rating websites. I thought they were very generous.
Anyway, after that explanation, I think that it's a little easier to understand why I wasn't initially excited about graduating again. It's so strange for me that I'm starting to actually look forward to it. I mean, this time I don't have to play in the band. (I did at my high school graduation. Again, lame.) And this time, I really feel like I've accomplished something, like my time was well-used, and that I have stuff ahead of me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I actually feel like celebrating this time, that I've actually achieved something. And since it's an academic achievement, I think that I can honor it in the way academics like honoring things.
I've spent a lot of time growing up by now, but it still never ceases to amaze me when I start looking forward to things that I utterly despise. And oddly enough, I think that my guidance counselor's advice still rings true. It really is their day, and my grandparents', who are driving out from Oregon again. And the rest of my family who will be attending. After all, my HermanaMayor is graduating with me, and we're the oldest, so it's kind of a big deal all around.
I wonder what my band teacher would think if he saw me right now.
Regards, best wishes, and real achievement,
-Cecily Jane
*In my high school, my guidance counselors had two jobs: first, convincing kids that they should go to college (which was a lot harder than you might think), and second, organizing graduation. They really put their hearts in it.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The Break-Up
My Dear Reader,
After an extensive five-year courtship, I would like to announce that I will soon be formally ending my relationship with Harold, who is otherwise known as the Harold B. Lee Library. While our relationship was deeply meaningful and very advantageous for the both of us, I felt it was necessary to break it off. "Harold," I said, "it isn't you, and it isn't me. It's just that you are a 47-year-old building, and I am going to be a 22-year-old graduate. I just don't see how this will work out." Harold then sighed, but I could tell from the look in his deep blue windows that he was starting to understand. It was time to move on.
But oh, Gentle Reader, the times we used to have! Harold always made sure that there was a chair waiting for me whenever we spent time together. We would read together, study together, blog together, and I found that he provided the best defense against any and all distractions from academia, pushing me to work as best and efficiently as I could. It was Harold who taught me how to write one double-spaced page in a half-hour, could easily gather information on a variety of subjects, and had memorized an untold number of books and scholarly articles by heart. Occasionally, our adventures together would last until midnight (when he would suddenly change from his usual, calm demeanor into one which was loud and obnoxious, as if to encourage me to get home at a reasonable hour).
Harold wasn't like the other Big Boys on Campus, like Harris Fine Arts Center, who was cultured but unpredictable, or Wilkinson Student Center, who was good for a meal but would keep you from your studies in order to quench his own loneliness. Harold understood that I was a student, that I had books to read and papers to write, and that I would sometimes have professors who were the most vicious taskmasters. While our relationship was by no means exclusive (for, as I was very well aware, he courted many), when I was with him, he would always make me feel as of his very existence was to serve my scholarly needs
Harold was and is one of the most popular guys around. Everyone knew and loved Harold, and he would often ease the tension I had between those of other majors. If we had to do something as a group and Harold was going to be there, we would know that no one was taking sides, which might have occurred at the presence of Henry B. Eyering Science Center or Joseph F. Smith Building. While F. and I would become great friends (though I was sometimes confused as to where I was in the relationship and where it was heading and how do I get out of here?), it was Harold who had my heart from the beginning, who would soothe my group's frustration when a test or project was near, and always gave us the chance to study effectively. I just don't think that I could possibly have graduated without him.
But, as I said, the time had come for the two of us to move on. As I walked away from Harold into the orange-pink haze of the setting sun, I looked back at him, and I too started to sigh. I thought about how life would be after graduation, when I no longer would have a friend who would spend his days finding meaning in the world's greatest literature with me. It was a troubling thing to think; after all, my departure had more to do with my fulfilled academic requirements than anything else. Could I say that we had actually grown apart? No, of course not. The fire in our relationship still burned as brightly as ever. Our paths were only planned to diverge because of circumstance and social convention. With misty eyes I ran back to Harold, put my hands on his paned exterior, and told him that though I might travel far and wide, I would always cherish what he had given me. When we finally parted, we promised that though we would be apart, we would always remain friends.
Regards, best wishes, and libraries,
-Cecily Jane
After an extensive five-year courtship, I would like to announce that I will soon be formally ending my relationship with Harold, who is otherwise known as the Harold B. Lee Library. While our relationship was deeply meaningful and very advantageous for the both of us, I felt it was necessary to break it off. "Harold," I said, "it isn't you, and it isn't me. It's just that you are a 47-year-old building, and I am going to be a 22-year-old graduate. I just don't see how this will work out." Harold then sighed, but I could tell from the look in his deep blue windows that he was starting to understand. It was time to move on.
But oh, Gentle Reader, the times we used to have! Harold always made sure that there was a chair waiting for me whenever we spent time together. We would read together, study together, blog together, and I found that he provided the best defense against any and all distractions from academia, pushing me to work as best and efficiently as I could. It was Harold who taught me how to write one double-spaced page in a half-hour, could easily gather information on a variety of subjects, and had memorized an untold number of books and scholarly articles by heart. Occasionally, our adventures together would last until midnight (when he would suddenly change from his usual, calm demeanor into one which was loud and obnoxious, as if to encourage me to get home at a reasonable hour).
Harold wasn't like the other Big Boys on Campus, like Harris Fine Arts Center, who was cultured but unpredictable, or Wilkinson Student Center, who was good for a meal but would keep you from your studies in order to quench his own loneliness. Harold understood that I was a student, that I had books to read and papers to write, and that I would sometimes have professors who were the most vicious taskmasters. While our relationship was by no means exclusive (for, as I was very well aware, he courted many), when I was with him, he would always make me feel as of his very existence was to serve my scholarly needs
Harold was and is one of the most popular guys around. Everyone knew and loved Harold, and he would often ease the tension I had between those of other majors. If we had to do something as a group and Harold was going to be there, we would know that no one was taking sides, which might have occurred at the presence of Henry B. Eyering Science Center or Joseph F. Smith Building. While F. and I would become great friends (though I was sometimes confused as to where I was in the relationship and where it was heading and how do I get out of here?), it was Harold who had my heart from the beginning, who would soothe my group's frustration when a test or project was near, and always gave us the chance to study effectively. I just don't think that I could possibly have graduated without him.
But, as I said, the time had come for the two of us to move on. As I walked away from Harold into the orange-pink haze of the setting sun, I looked back at him, and I too started to sigh. I thought about how life would be after graduation, when I no longer would have a friend who would spend his days finding meaning in the world's greatest literature with me. It was a troubling thing to think; after all, my departure had more to do with my fulfilled academic requirements than anything else. Could I say that we had actually grown apart? No, of course not. The fire in our relationship still burned as brightly as ever. Our paths were only planned to diverge because of circumstance and social convention. With misty eyes I ran back to Harold, put my hands on his paned exterior, and told him that though I might travel far and wide, I would always cherish what he had given me. When we finally parted, we promised that though we would be apart, we would always remain friends.
Regards, best wishes, and libraries,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Surgery?
My Dear Reader,
So it's official: I've got to go into surgery about my dislocated shoulder. I'm not that happy about it, partially because I don't really think that anyone should be happy about going into surgery, and partially because it messed up all of my plans for the summer, which weren't doing so well anyway. The problem with this whole thing is that I'm graduating. I always kind of thought that I would be a student forever, and that graduating was what other people did. Other people got sick of school and had better things to do. I don't really have either. Like I've said before, I'm only graduating because staying would be somewhat ridiculous and cost more money. I mean, sure, I'll try to get a job someplace. Editing, most likely. That's the only thing business-ey thing that I've simultaneously enjoyed and been good at, except for writing. I could write the pants off of most people. Anyway, here's a list of what I was hoping to accomplish this summer:
So it's official: I've got to go into surgery about my dislocated shoulder. I'm not that happy about it, partially because I don't really think that anyone should be happy about going into surgery, and partially because it messed up all of my plans for the summer, which weren't doing so well anyway. The problem with this whole thing is that I'm graduating. I always kind of thought that I would be a student forever, and that graduating was what other people did. Other people got sick of school and had better things to do. I don't really have either. Like I've said before, I'm only graduating because staying would be somewhat ridiculous and cost more money. I mean, sure, I'll try to get a job someplace. Editing, most likely. That's the only thing business-ey thing that I've simultaneously enjoyed and been good at, except for writing. I could write the pants off of most people. Anyway, here's a list of what I was hoping to accomplish this summer:
- Eat
- Publish my book
- Live somewhere that's not Utah
- Go to New York City with a friend
- Make mountains of money somehow, preferably by way of #2
- Get my own apartment
- Feel like a bachelor's degree is actually worth something
- Get an editing job
Now that I'm going to be getting surgery at the beginning of the summer, I'm not sure if I can still work at the MTC this summer while I try to find an editing job. I've got surgery scheduled for May 7th, after which I might be spending up to three weeks at Madre and Padre's until I feel better. Then, I'll go back to my job here (spending six weeks in a sling), I guess, but it now kind of doesn't make sense if I'm only going to be here for a couple of months and two of my best friends are going to be in Russia the whole time. Ugh.
And then today, as I was sitting in class, I thought that it would be really strange to go from being an English major to not-talking-about-literature-all-day-every-day in a little over two weeks. And then I was thinking that maybe grad school would be worth it. And then I remembered that I never, ever planned to go to grad school grade-wise. And I haven't even looked into any of the requirements or anything at all. I mean, I really, really don't want to leave college, but at the same time, I don't want to go into grad school just because I'm too afraid to try anything else. And I have student loans to pay off. Ugh again!
And then I think that this might be my big chance to grow up even more than I already have in the years I've studied here. That's one of the reasons why I want to try to live by myself: I want to be even more independent that I already am (or do I mean less dependant?). I'm the kind of person who's always looking for an opportunity to stretch myself a little more, and moving away and getting a job might be it. Or I might just fail miserably at everything because a bachelor's degree isn't worth what it used to.
At this point, I just wish that I knew what I wanted, and how to get it, and that this surgery thing wouldn't mess everything up. For now, it seems that I'm just going to have to play it by ear. In the meantime, if you hear of any editing jobs that require only a bachelor's degree, let me know.
Regards, best wishes, and not surgery,
-Cecily Jane
Monday, March 31, 2008
Re-examining Pascal's Wager
My Dear Reader,
Some time ago, this French philosopher Blaise Pascal decided that was more beneficial to believe and act as if God existed than to do the opposite. The idea is called Pascal's Wager, and according to Pascal, you might as well pretend that God exists because it's safer to pretend that God exists, act accordingly, and find out that death is the end than to disbelieve in God and risk the consequences if you're wrong. I think that Pascal's wager is very logical, but not very fulfilling. I mean, why would someone want to believe in something because it's safer than disbelieving it?
I've been thinking a little about Pascal's Wager recently, and I almost think that if the only reason I had to believe was the fear of being wrong, I'd risk the consequences. I mean, a lifetime of living Christian values isn't really worth it unless there's a reason behind it, right? Now, in that case, the only viable option would be to change my views to Atheism, and I've never really considered that before. I mean, my honest opinion of Atheism is that it generally is a running away from something than running towards truth, but when I really look at it, I don't think that I could really believe in God by default, and I have to respect the courage people have to have in order to stand alone like that.
I suppose that I am pretty lucky, then, because I have enough religious experience to know, and I mean know, that God exists. Though it's largely discounted by those who are opposed to believing, religious experience is thought by very prominent religious philosophers to be too universal to ignore. I won't go into too much detail at this point about what has happened to me because of the risk of making light of sacred things, but let me tell you plainly that when I pray, I can feel God listen. I've seen things that can only be described as miracles, and I know better than to doubt His existence. I couldn't be more sure that God lives if He came down from the heavens and took me by the hand. It took a long time and a lot of searching, but I suppose that you could say that I found my answer.
Knowing who I am, though, I also know that I can not comfortably believe in something without a really good reason. Maybe it's the rebellious part of me, or maybe it's because of the many people I've known in the past who turned out to be less that truthful, but I just can't do that. So I suppose that with all things considered, if I hadn't had the religious experience, I'd be forced to say that the whole idea of religion seems preposterous. I mean, your average run-of-the-mill Christian theology is crazy enough, with people coming back from the dead and water turning to wine, but when you add The Book of Mormon, it's really fantastic. Still, I have had the experience, and I can't turn my back on that. Not ever. I'd just have to much to lose, you know?
Those who know me know that when it comes to my religion, I'm pretty passionate. In fact, I've been known to talk on and on about the subject until someone had the sense to stop me. At the age of twenty-two, I can say that my affection for the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the closest I've ever come to falling in love, and I really mean that. There is so much good in it, and it has done so much to change me, that I know I owe everything I am to my belief in God and Jesus Christ, and I am not ashamed to admit it. But the more I study the theology of others, the more I wonder if people around me, the ones who don't believe the same way I do, think that maybe I'm playing the same kind of game that Pascal suggests. Or, perhaps, they think that I'm under a variety of other influences that anti-Christians like to theorize about from time to time. I guess that if you didn't have religious experience, it would be incredibly logical. I know, however, what and who I am, and I know that a life of baseless belief is an empty one. I also know that real faith, which is backed up by a kind of proof that is too exquisite to describe, is the key to real, true fulfillment. I just hope that I don't tire my friends too much when I try to spread the word.
Regards, best wishes, and faith,
-Cecily Jane
Some time ago, this French philosopher Blaise Pascal decided that was more beneficial to believe and act as if God existed than to do the opposite. The idea is called Pascal's Wager, and according to Pascal, you might as well pretend that God exists because it's safer to pretend that God exists, act accordingly, and find out that death is the end than to disbelieve in God and risk the consequences if you're wrong. I think that Pascal's wager is very logical, but not very fulfilling. I mean, why would someone want to believe in something because it's safer than disbelieving it?
I've been thinking a little about Pascal's Wager recently, and I almost think that if the only reason I had to believe was the fear of being wrong, I'd risk the consequences. I mean, a lifetime of living Christian values isn't really worth it unless there's a reason behind it, right? Now, in that case, the only viable option would be to change my views to Atheism, and I've never really considered that before. I mean, my honest opinion of Atheism is that it generally is a running away from something than running towards truth, but when I really look at it, I don't think that I could really believe in God by default, and I have to respect the courage people have to have in order to stand alone like that.
I suppose that I am pretty lucky, then, because I have enough religious experience to know, and I mean know, that God exists. Though it's largely discounted by those who are opposed to believing, religious experience is thought by very prominent religious philosophers to be too universal to ignore. I won't go into too much detail at this point about what has happened to me because of the risk of making light of sacred things, but let me tell you plainly that when I pray, I can feel God listen. I've seen things that can only be described as miracles, and I know better than to doubt His existence. I couldn't be more sure that God lives if He came down from the heavens and took me by the hand. It took a long time and a lot of searching, but I suppose that you could say that I found my answer.
Knowing who I am, though, I also know that I can not comfortably believe in something without a really good reason. Maybe it's the rebellious part of me, or maybe it's because of the many people I've known in the past who turned out to be less that truthful, but I just can't do that. So I suppose that with all things considered, if I hadn't had the religious experience, I'd be forced to say that the whole idea of religion seems preposterous. I mean, your average run-of-the-mill Christian theology is crazy enough, with people coming back from the dead and water turning to wine, but when you add The Book of Mormon, it's really fantastic. Still, I have had the experience, and I can't turn my back on that. Not ever. I'd just have to much to lose, you know?
Those who know me know that when it comes to my religion, I'm pretty passionate. In fact, I've been known to talk on and on about the subject until someone had the sense to stop me. At the age of twenty-two, I can say that my affection for the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the closest I've ever come to falling in love, and I really mean that. There is so much good in it, and it has done so much to change me, that I know I owe everything I am to my belief in God and Jesus Christ, and I am not ashamed to admit it. But the more I study the theology of others, the more I wonder if people around me, the ones who don't believe the same way I do, think that maybe I'm playing the same kind of game that Pascal suggests. Or, perhaps, they think that I'm under a variety of other influences that anti-Christians like to theorize about from time to time. I guess that if you didn't have religious experience, it would be incredibly logical. I know, however, what and who I am, and I know that a life of baseless belief is an empty one. I also know that real faith, which is backed up by a kind of proof that is too exquisite to describe, is the key to real, true fulfillment. I just hope that I don't tire my friends too much when I try to spread the word.
Regards, best wishes, and faith,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Missing Paradise
My Dear Reader,
As any educated person in this world should know, the Book of Mormon is essentially a story about a group of people who left Jerusalem right before the fall of Jerusalem and made their way to the Americas. The narrative covers around a thousand years of history from these people, not to mention the history of an older civilization that these people came upon later. Interestingly enough, there are about three hundred years out of this thousand that go virtually unrecorded, and there's no real indication of why the stories during this time period were left out. What's more interesting is the fact that these three hundred years occur in the Fourth Book of Nephi, which describes the time just after the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, when the teachings of Christ instructed and inspired an entire nation to create a perfect society akin to the city of Enoch. Why, when civilization was at its peak, were the stories left out?
I've heard a lot of speculation on the subject, and in my experience, the majority of my peers seem to think that it's because there were no stories to tell. I guess their theory is that when poverty, hunger, sin, and corruption are eliminated, nothing really happens that's worth talking about. I refuse to accept this explanation, mainly because of its very frightening implications. If this society's story was silenced because it was boring, than perfection equals boredom. If perfection equals boredom, we're going to have a really hard time in the next life.
When I was a child, I was really afraid of the afterlife. I wasn't really afraid of death, though I knew it would probably be very painful; people who truly believe in an afterlife have more things to worry about. I was afraid because I didn't exactly have a very clear idea of what was going to happen after I died. I mean, I know that the good are supposed to go to a paradise, but what is that? An eternity of playing video games? What happens when we get sick of Philadelphia cream cheese? To the eight-year-old me, it seemed like boredom was inevitable, and an eternity of boredom seemed very, very, frightening. It makes you wonder why we bother being good at all.
The same kind of idea is the premise behind the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Death Wish."* (I know, I know, I referenced Star Trek twice in two weeks. Sorry.) The story involves a member of an omnipotent race called the Q who wants to be euthanized because he feels that he has experienced all that life has to offer. Because he has existed since the beginning of time, he claims that there is nothing left for him to experience or know. In a sense, he says that he's suffering from the same kind of boredom that I feared as a child, which must be the same boredom that supposedly existed in Fourth Nephi.
Okay, first of all, I just can't believe that the good and loving God of the Universe would really make things like that. When you become suicidal, it stops being paradise, and that's not much of a reward for a long life of righteousness. If anything, I would think that the Devil would be more behind this vision of boredom than anybody, since he's been trying for ages to make us believe that sin is exciting, and people are falling for it by the millions. Second of all, I happen to know that there are plenty of good stories that are about good people who try to do the right thing. Take Anne of Green Gables, for example. You won't find any villains there, just a bunch of good, well-rounded characters who live their lives as normally as possible. Sure, there are no explosions, but they manage all right. Thirdly, I honestly don't believe that being good (or even being perfect) means being the same, which is what I think this whole idea stems from: a fear of being the same. God created individuals for a purpose, and there are a great deal of choices out there that aren't good versus evil. We don't have to wear the same outfit or like the same kind of movies because we're human beings, not mindless drones. I suppose that I don't exactly understand how it's going to work after we die, but I know that the perfect equals boring argument is a fallacy, because it makes absolutely no sense when you believe that paradise is supposed to be a paradise.
In fact, my guess is that those stories were left out because we as a people don't get how a paradise works. After all, we've had The Bible for millennia and we haven't gotten anywhere near that city of Enoch, even though we've had the blue prints staring us in the face the entire time. Heavenly Father knew that we'd never get there until the Second Coming of Christ; John makes that very clear. In fact, it's going to get pretty ugly before then. And considering that God knew that we would never be put in a paradise in this life, it would make sense that He would ask His prophets to write about things that we would have to deal with, like poverty, hunger, sin, and corruption. In a sense, I think that those three hundred years were skimmed over because they were irrelevant, not because they were boring. I guess we're just not ready to learn about what happened in detail.
I hope that one day soon we will be.
Regards, best wishes, and paradise,
-Cecily Jane
* By the way, it's a good episode about ethics and morality. You should rent it some time.
As any educated person in this world should know, the Book of Mormon is essentially a story about a group of people who left Jerusalem right before the fall of Jerusalem and made their way to the Americas. The narrative covers around a thousand years of history from these people, not to mention the history of an older civilization that these people came upon later. Interestingly enough, there are about three hundred years out of this thousand that go virtually unrecorded, and there's no real indication of why the stories during this time period were left out. What's more interesting is the fact that these three hundred years occur in the Fourth Book of Nephi, which describes the time just after the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, when the teachings of Christ instructed and inspired an entire nation to create a perfect society akin to the city of Enoch. Why, when civilization was at its peak, were the stories left out?
I've heard a lot of speculation on the subject, and in my experience, the majority of my peers seem to think that it's because there were no stories to tell. I guess their theory is that when poverty, hunger, sin, and corruption are eliminated, nothing really happens that's worth talking about. I refuse to accept this explanation, mainly because of its very frightening implications. If this society's story was silenced because it was boring, than perfection equals boredom. If perfection equals boredom, we're going to have a really hard time in the next life.
When I was a child, I was really afraid of the afterlife. I wasn't really afraid of death, though I knew it would probably be very painful; people who truly believe in an afterlife have more things to worry about. I was afraid because I didn't exactly have a very clear idea of what was going to happen after I died. I mean, I know that the good are supposed to go to a paradise, but what is that? An eternity of playing video games? What happens when we get sick of Philadelphia cream cheese? To the eight-year-old me, it seemed like boredom was inevitable, and an eternity of boredom seemed very, very, frightening. It makes you wonder why we bother being good at all.
The same kind of idea is the premise behind the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Death Wish."* (I know, I know, I referenced Star Trek twice in two weeks. Sorry.) The story involves a member of an omnipotent race called the Q who wants to be euthanized because he feels that he has experienced all that life has to offer. Because he has existed since the beginning of time, he claims that there is nothing left for him to experience or know. In a sense, he says that he's suffering from the same kind of boredom that I feared as a child, which must be the same boredom that supposedly existed in Fourth Nephi.
Okay, first of all, I just can't believe that the good and loving God of the Universe would really make things like that. When you become suicidal, it stops being paradise, and that's not much of a reward for a long life of righteousness. If anything, I would think that the Devil would be more behind this vision of boredom than anybody, since he's been trying for ages to make us believe that sin is exciting, and people are falling for it by the millions. Second of all, I happen to know that there are plenty of good stories that are about good people who try to do the right thing. Take Anne of Green Gables, for example. You won't find any villains there, just a bunch of good, well-rounded characters who live their lives as normally as possible. Sure, there are no explosions, but they manage all right. Thirdly, I honestly don't believe that being good (or even being perfect) means being the same, which is what I think this whole idea stems from: a fear of being the same. God created individuals for a purpose, and there are a great deal of choices out there that aren't good versus evil. We don't have to wear the same outfit or like the same kind of movies because we're human beings, not mindless drones. I suppose that I don't exactly understand how it's going to work after we die, but I know that the perfect equals boring argument is a fallacy, because it makes absolutely no sense when you believe that paradise is supposed to be a paradise.
In fact, my guess is that those stories were left out because we as a people don't get how a paradise works. After all, we've had The Bible for millennia and we haven't gotten anywhere near that city of Enoch, even though we've had the blue prints staring us in the face the entire time. Heavenly Father knew that we'd never get there until the Second Coming of Christ; John makes that very clear. In fact, it's going to get pretty ugly before then. And considering that God knew that we would never be put in a paradise in this life, it would make sense that He would ask His prophets to write about things that we would have to deal with, like poverty, hunger, sin, and corruption. In a sense, I think that those three hundred years were skimmed over because they were irrelevant, not because they were boring. I guess we're just not ready to learn about what happened in detail.
I hope that one day soon we will be.
Regards, best wishes, and paradise,
-Cecily Jane
* By the way, it's a good episode about ethics and morality. You should rent it some time.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Vote for Crusher!
My Dear Reader,
Are you sick of the way that healthcare is run today? Don't you hate it when you have some problem or other and the doctor doesn't know what's wrong with you? While we live in a country that has the most advanced medicinal practices in the world, I think that you, Gentle Reader, would agree with me that it's just not good enough. Now, you might think that I'm going to go into some big long debate over how to fix the system through funding or socialism or something, but I'm not. Instead of arguing over what I think might work, I'll just give you one simple, easy solution that will solve everything. You see, there's one person who could revolutionize healthcare forever, someone who can solve all of our health-related problems, and that person is Star Trek: The Next Generation's own Dr. Beverly Crusher. If you vote for her for president, all of our problems will be solved!
Okay, so I know that she's a fictional character, but have you ever seen her at work? She's simply amazing. If you're ever on the Enterprise and something happens, Dr. Crusher's got you covered. Is a creepy ambassador using you as a psychic waste dump? Dr. Crusher can break the link. Do you need to deliver a space-born life form after your ship accidentally killed the mother? Dr. Crusher knows what to do. Are you suffering from polywater intoxication? Dr. Crusher can cure you while she's intoxicated herself! There's just no limit to this woman's potential.
I know what you're thinking, Gentle Reader: why haven't I considered all of the other doctors that Starfleet has come up with? Why choose Beverly Crusher? Well, I'm sure that all of the other candidates are great guys, but they've all got one thing against them: they are men. As the only female Chief Medical Officer on a Star Trek series, she can finally give Americans what they're looking for: a female president. Besides having two X chromosomes, Dr. Crusher possesses other skills, such as unlimited selflessness. Unlike Dr. Bashir or The Doctor, Dr. Crusher is more worried about her patients than she is about her social status among the crew. And unlike Dr. Phlox or Dr. McCoy, Dr. Crusher is up-to-date on the science of the now and has distinct leadership qualities. Have you ever seen Bones captain the Enterprise? While The Doctor would be hitting on you, Dr. Crusher would be looking for the cure to your disease. While Dr. Bashir is trying to hide the fact that he is genetically enhanced, Dr. Crusher is curing people. And while Dr. Phlox is feeding his Pyrithian bat, Dr. Crusher is curing diseases that haven't been invented yet.
Now, I know what you're thinking this time: why should you vote for a presidential candidate who rocks on a medicinal level only? Couldn't we put her as Surgeon General or something and have a Starfleet captain in the White House instead? Well, you're right. Janeway would be pretty amazing as a president. But Dr. Crusher's skills aren't only limited to gender and medicine. She also does covert ops, dances better than Data, and broke a curse that had plagued her family for generations. Obviously, this is a woman with many hats, a woman you should elect president.
If somebody that awesome were given the most powerful position on the planet, don't you think that she could cure every problem that ever existed? I definitely do. At the rate she has already established on television, Dr. Crusher would probably cure AIDS, Alzheimer's, cancer, and the flu in her first month of office. Once she has found a cure to every disease known to humanity, she can go to work making sure that our healthcare system at large is up to Starfleet specs. Imagine all of the time that would be saved from filling out papers once all medical records are easily available through a central computer! And what if instead of some doctor poking and prodding you to hazard a guess at what is wrong, he or she can know in seconds by scanning you with a nifty tricorder. If you need to be treated, they can just zap you with some high-tech gadget instead of making you go through surgery and junk.
Most of all, Dr. Crusher has the professional ethics to make sure that doctors are in it for you and not for their pockets. Did you see what she did when Dr. Toby Russel tried to use her own patients as research subjects? Wouldn't it be the best thing ever if every doctor in America were held under the same standards? Heck, wouldn't it be awesome if every bureaucrat/government official were held under the same standards?
So vote for Dr. Beverly Crusher for president in 2008. Change.
All kidding aside though, I can't help but envy Dr. Crusher's patients whenever I watch TNG. They've just got it so easy in the future! And I actually would vote for her if she was real and running.
Regards, best wishes, and candidates,
-Cecily Jane
Are you sick of the way that healthcare is run today? Don't you hate it when you have some problem or other and the doctor doesn't know what's wrong with you? While we live in a country that has the most advanced medicinal practices in the world, I think that you, Gentle Reader, would agree with me that it's just not good enough. Now, you might think that I'm going to go into some big long debate over how to fix the system through funding or socialism or something, but I'm not. Instead of arguing over what I think might work, I'll just give you one simple, easy solution that will solve everything. You see, there's one person who could revolutionize healthcare forever, someone who can solve all of our health-related problems, and that person is Star Trek: The Next Generation's own Dr. Beverly Crusher. If you vote for her for president, all of our problems will be solved!
Okay, so I know that she's a fictional character, but have you ever seen her at work? She's simply amazing. If you're ever on the Enterprise and something happens, Dr. Crusher's got you covered. Is a creepy ambassador using you as a psychic waste dump? Dr. Crusher can break the link. Do you need to deliver a space-born life form after your ship accidentally killed the mother? Dr. Crusher knows what to do. Are you suffering from polywater intoxication? Dr. Crusher can cure you while she's intoxicated herself! There's just no limit to this woman's potential.
I know what you're thinking, Gentle Reader: why haven't I considered all of the other doctors that Starfleet has come up with? Why choose Beverly Crusher? Well, I'm sure that all of the other candidates are great guys, but they've all got one thing against them: they are men. As the only female Chief Medical Officer on a Star Trek series, she can finally give Americans what they're looking for: a female president. Besides having two X chromosomes, Dr. Crusher possesses other skills, such as unlimited selflessness. Unlike Dr. Bashir or The Doctor, Dr. Crusher is more worried about her patients than she is about her social status among the crew. And unlike Dr. Phlox or Dr. McCoy, Dr. Crusher is up-to-date on the science of the now and has distinct leadership qualities. Have you ever seen Bones captain the Enterprise? While The Doctor would be hitting on you, Dr. Crusher would be looking for the cure to your disease. While Dr. Bashir is trying to hide the fact that he is genetically enhanced, Dr. Crusher is curing people. And while Dr. Phlox is feeding his Pyrithian bat, Dr. Crusher is curing diseases that haven't been invented yet.
Now, I know what you're thinking this time: why should you vote for a presidential candidate who rocks on a medicinal level only? Couldn't we put her as Surgeon General or something and have a Starfleet captain in the White House instead? Well, you're right. Janeway would be pretty amazing as a president. But Dr. Crusher's skills aren't only limited to gender and medicine. She also does covert ops, dances better than Data, and broke a curse that had plagued her family for generations. Obviously, this is a woman with many hats, a woman you should elect president.
If somebody that awesome were given the most powerful position on the planet, don't you think that she could cure every problem that ever existed? I definitely do. At the rate she has already established on television, Dr. Crusher would probably cure AIDS, Alzheimer's, cancer, and the flu in her first month of office. Once she has found a cure to every disease known to humanity, she can go to work making sure that our healthcare system at large is up to Starfleet specs. Imagine all of the time that would be saved from filling out papers once all medical records are easily available through a central computer! And what if instead of some doctor poking and prodding you to hazard a guess at what is wrong, he or she can know in seconds by scanning you with a nifty tricorder. If you need to be treated, they can just zap you with some high-tech gadget instead of making you go through surgery and junk.
Most of all, Dr. Crusher has the professional ethics to make sure that doctors are in it for you and not for their pockets. Did you see what she did when Dr. Toby Russel tried to use her own patients as research subjects? Wouldn't it be the best thing ever if every doctor in America were held under the same standards? Heck, wouldn't it be awesome if every bureaucrat/government official were held under the same standards?
So vote for Dr. Beverly Crusher for president in 2008. Change.
All kidding aside though, I can't help but envy Dr. Crusher's patients whenever I watch TNG. They've just got it so easy in the future! And I actually would vote for her if she was real and running.
Regards, best wishes, and candidates,
-Cecily Jane
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