I might be a bit of a freak about grammar, but sometimes public content is just out of control.
For everyone.
For example: the other day in one of my university classes my professor (PROFESSOR! not TA or student) had a power-point up and he was trying to make a joke. He wrote how to succeed in the class and included in parenthesis, (we like cookies to).
To what?
To eat? to dip in milk? to throw at students? He didn't even leave an ellipses for us to fill in our own blank. Now, I know this wasn't an English class, but science professors should have to spell things right, too. Right?
Oh, and the other killer? A billboard for Sizzler. It says:
I used to Sizzler with my dad.
Now my...
KIDS LOVE IT!
Wouldn't the ellipses be much more natural after the now? The way it is now is just so...awkward. I won't even complain about the fact that "sizzler" isn't actually a verb.
Am I the only one that gets bothered by such things?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Stories that changed my life, vol. II
This story changed my life. Especially since I heard it while at the MTC preparing to go to Taiwan. I was a full-time missionary in the service of the Master.
And this story changed my entire mission.
"A mission president once told me of a missionary he assigned to more than 12 or 13 companions. He said to me, “Every one of those companions was about to go home early or be sent home. But we didn’t lose one of them.”
"When I mentioned that miraculous fact later to the companion who saved so many at the point of their being overwhelmed, I got a response which surprised and taught me. It was this: “I don’t think that story is true. I never had a companion who was failing.”
"I could see that a mission president had been inspired to send the right angel time after time. We can expect in our service to have help sent to us at the right time who will see strength in us and lift us up. And we can look forward to being the one sent by the Lord to encourage another."
--"O Ye That Embark," Ensign November 2008
And this story changed my entire mission.
"A mission president once told me of a missionary he assigned to more than 12 or 13 companions. He said to me, “Every one of those companions was about to go home early or be sent home. But we didn’t lose one of them.”
"When I mentioned that miraculous fact later to the companion who saved so many at the point of their being overwhelmed, I got a response which surprised and taught me. It was this: “I don’t think that story is true. I never had a companion who was failing.”
"I could see that a mission president had been inspired to send the right angel time after time. We can expect in our service to have help sent to us at the right time who will see strength in us and lift us up. And we can look forward to being the one sent by the Lord to encourage another."
--"O Ye That Embark," Ensign November 2008
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The Lost Virtue of Integrity
Yesterday I went to a car store (which will rename unnamed) to run an emissions and safety inspection on my car. Last time I did this, the emissions failed (but passed the second time after a lot of prayer--that's a cool story!) so I wasn't surprised when it failed again this year--but just barely. I know why it failed, too--they let it idle for too long before they tested it.
What I was shocked about was the advice I was given by the car inspector people to make my car pass:
"If you want to cheat, just throw in a bottle of heet, rev up the engine, and bring it in--don't let it idle. 'Technically' it's not legal to use heet to pass emissions tests, but 'techinically,' who cares."
I was disgusted. It was even worse than the time the guy in my ward told me after my car had bumped into another car, "Just rub some gas on the black marks and the car owner will never even know you hit it."
Really, now. Is the virtue of integrity dead? Would I really sell my honor for a mess of pottage or even a way to pass the state emissions test?
In defense of the car shop, there was an employee who seemed less eager for me to sell my integrity and looked a little uncomfortable when the guy suggested throwing in the heet. But I was still shocked. And disappointed.
Said Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin:
"A little lying, a little cheating, or taking a little unfair advantage are not acceptable to the Lord. (See 2 Ne. 28:8–9.) The scriptures warn that these are Satan’s ways to lead us “carefully down to [destruction].” (2 Ne. 28:21.)...
"The world desperately needs men and women of integrity. Nearly every day we hear of fraud, misapplication of funds, false advertising, or other dealings designed to obtain gain by cheating or deception. The Lord abhors such practices."
--"Personal Integrity," Ensign May 1990
So is integrity dead? Not yet!
What I was shocked about was the advice I was given by the car inspector people to make my car pass:
"If you want to cheat, just throw in a bottle of heet, rev up the engine, and bring it in--don't let it idle. 'Technically' it's not legal to use heet to pass emissions tests, but 'techinically,' who cares."
I was disgusted. It was even worse than the time the guy in my ward told me after my car had bumped into another car, "Just rub some gas on the black marks and the car owner will never even know you hit it."
Really, now. Is the virtue of integrity dead? Would I really sell my honor for a mess of pottage or even a way to pass the state emissions test?
In defense of the car shop, there was an employee who seemed less eager for me to sell my integrity and looked a little uncomfortable when the guy suggested throwing in the heet. But I was still shocked. And disappointed.
Said Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin:
"A little lying, a little cheating, or taking a little unfair advantage are not acceptable to the Lord. (See 2 Ne. 28:8–9.) The scriptures warn that these are Satan’s ways to lead us “carefully down to [destruction].” (2 Ne. 28:21.)...
"The world desperately needs men and women of integrity. Nearly every day we hear of fraud, misapplication of funds, false advertising, or other dealings designed to obtain gain by cheating or deception. The Lord abhors such practices."
--"Personal Integrity," Ensign May 1990
So is integrity dead? Not yet!
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Road Trip
I decided that since I don't have my own babies, I would just have to write about somebody else's. And who better than my sister's adorable baby boy, who just doesn't get enough posts on her own blog!
Less than a week after I got home from my mission, I realized I was in need of some serious mission detox time. A road trip to Texas (by myself) was needed.
So I went.
While the details of my harrowing trip are described on another of my many blogs (each blog must be themed!!!), the pictures of the result of that trip will be posted here.
First, a final picture from one of the last days of my mission. My companion was kind enough to snap this shot of me a couple of days before I went finished my mission. This happened before the road trip but I thought it might illustrate why I so needed a detox tour.
.jpg)
Once there, I decided to feed my sister's baby, Talmage, to the shark.
He didn't like it very much.
Don't worry, he laughed it off easily.
Then, I stopped at my dear friend and former roommate Shayla's house. She live in Oklahoma.
It is pretty close to Texas, right?
Even though I tried to feed her son Max to a buffalo,
he was still happy.
He even taught me how to ride a bike--I had forgotten in the two weeks of post-mission life.
And I got to eat brisket and fried okra--just didn't get that in Taiwan!
Anyway, it was an awesome trip--idealistic, really. Thanks, Kaitlyn and Shayla, for letting me impose on your lives (and feed your children to large animals and aquatic creatures).
Less than a week after I got home from my mission, I realized I was in need of some serious mission detox time. A road trip to Texas (by myself) was needed.
So I went.
While the details of my harrowing trip are described on another of my many blogs (each blog must be themed!!!), the pictures of the result of that trip will be posted here.
First, a final picture from one of the last days of my mission. My companion was kind enough to snap this shot of me a couple of days before I went finished my mission. This happened before the road trip but I thought it might illustrate why I so needed a detox tour.
.jpg)
Once there, I decided to feed my sister's baby, Talmage, to the shark.
He didn't like it very much.
Don't worry, he laughed it off easily.
Then, I stopped at my dear friend and former roommate Shayla's house. She live in Oklahoma.
It is pretty close to Texas, right?
Even though I tried to feed her son Max to a buffalo,
he was still happy.
He even taught me how to ride a bike--I had forgotten in the two weeks of post-mission life.
And I got to eat brisket and fried okra--just didn't get that in Taiwan!
Anyway, it was an awesome trip--idealistic, really. Thanks, Kaitlyn and Shayla, for letting me impose on your lives (and feed your children to large animals and aquatic creatures).
Thursday, April 15, 2010
"Hast Thou Not Seen?"
Sometimes I get a bit overwhelmed. And I think and wonder if my life is really being directed by divine guidance, or if I am running this race alone--the wrong way.
And it is in these moments that God asks me,
"Hast thou not seen
how all thou needest
hath been granted
in what He ordaineth?"
And it's true. It is so true. A short story to illustrate:
Having recently returned from a mission in Taiwan, I still have friends there who would appreciate correspondance in the form of letters occasionally. But each letter to Taiwan comes with a 94 cent stamp bill, which gets pretty pricy. And I have no money. A bit of a dillema, eh?
And then the other day my mother handed me a stack of more than 20 stamped envelopes. Stamped with the international 94 cent stamps. And she said that someone gave her the envelopes so she could write me letters on my mission, but she never used them. And she thought I might appreciate them.
Hast thou not seen?
And it is in these moments that God asks me,
"Hast thou not seen
how all thou needest
hath been granted
in what He ordaineth?"
And it's true. It is so true. A short story to illustrate:
Having recently returned from a mission in Taiwan, I still have friends there who would appreciate correspondance in the form of letters occasionally. But each letter to Taiwan comes with a 94 cent stamp bill, which gets pretty pricy. And I have no money. A bit of a dillema, eh?
And then the other day my mother handed me a stack of more than 20 stamped envelopes. Stamped with the international 94 cent stamps. And she said that someone gave her the envelopes so she could write me letters on my mission, but she never used them. And she thought I might appreciate them.
Hast thou not seen?
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
"Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds"
This post could also be titled, "Stories that changed my life, volume one."
You see, when I first heard this story, I was in the midst of a (what I thought was) horrific program studying intense Arabic. I didn't enjoy it, I was busy with other things, and the only reason I did it was because the Lord had asked me to. But some days, that wasn't enough for me.
And then I heard this story. I had downloaded this talk to my i-pod and was walking home from campus one day, listening.
And I realized, I'm not here for the weeds.
And then, in Jordan, I told myself over and over, "Breanne, you aren't here for the onions."
And so I survived. And maybe one day this story can change your life, too.
"Let me encourage you by telling you a story. It was told to me by my father. He told it with the intent to chuckle at himself. It was a story about his trying to do his duty, just the way you try to do your duty.
"Now you have to know a little bit about my father. His name was Henry Eyring, like mine. He had done some of the things students of this university are preparing to be able to do. His work in chemistry was substantial enough to bring the honors some of you will someday have, but he was still a member of a ward of the Church with his duty to do. To appreciate this story, you have to realize that it occurred when he was nearly eighty and had bone cancer. He had bone cancer so badly in his hips that he could hardly move. The pain was great.
"Dad was the senior high councilor in his stake with the responsibility for the welfare farm. An assignment was given to weed a field of onions, so Dad assigned himself to go work on the farm.
"Dad never told me how hard it was, but I have met several people who were with him that day. I talked to one of them on the phone the other night to check the story. The one I talked to said that he was weeding in the row next to Dad through much of the day. He told me the same thing that others who were there that day have told me. He said that the pain was so great that Dad was pulling himself along on his stomach with his elbows. He couldn't kneel. The pain was too great for him to kneel. Everyone who has talked to me has remarked how Dad smiled, and laughed, and talked happily with them as they worked in that field of onions.
"Now, this is the joke Dad told me on himself, afterward. He said he was there at the end of the day. After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone asked him, "Henry, good heavens! You didn't pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway."
"Dad just roared. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.
"When Dad told me this story, I knew how tough it was. So I said to him, "Dad, how could you make a joke out of that? How could you take it so pleasantly?"
"He said something to me that I will never forget, and I hope you won't. He said, "Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds."
"Now, you'll be in an onion patch much of your life. So will I. It will be hard to see the powers of heaven magnifying us or our efforts. It may even be hard to see our work being of any value at all. And sometimes our work won't go well.
"But you didn't come for the weeds. You came for the Savior. And if you pray, and if you choose to be clean, and if you choose to follow God's servants, you will be able to work and wait long enough to bring down the powers of heaven."
--Henry B. Eyring, "Waiting Upon the Lord," Sept. 30 1990
You see, when I first heard this story, I was in the midst of a (what I thought was) horrific program studying intense Arabic. I didn't enjoy it, I was busy with other things, and the only reason I did it was because the Lord had asked me to. But some days, that wasn't enough for me.
And then I heard this story. I had downloaded this talk to my i-pod and was walking home from campus one day, listening.
And I realized, I'm not here for the weeds.
And then, in Jordan, I told myself over and over, "Breanne, you aren't here for the onions."
And so I survived. And maybe one day this story can change your life, too.
"Let me encourage you by telling you a story. It was told to me by my father. He told it with the intent to chuckle at himself. It was a story about his trying to do his duty, just the way you try to do your duty.
"Now you have to know a little bit about my father. His name was Henry Eyring, like mine. He had done some of the things students of this university are preparing to be able to do. His work in chemistry was substantial enough to bring the honors some of you will someday have, but he was still a member of a ward of the Church with his duty to do. To appreciate this story, you have to realize that it occurred when he was nearly eighty and had bone cancer. He had bone cancer so badly in his hips that he could hardly move. The pain was great.
"Dad was the senior high councilor in his stake with the responsibility for the welfare farm. An assignment was given to weed a field of onions, so Dad assigned himself to go work on the farm.
"Dad never told me how hard it was, but I have met several people who were with him that day. I talked to one of them on the phone the other night to check the story. The one I talked to said that he was weeding in the row next to Dad through much of the day. He told me the same thing that others who were there that day have told me. He said that the pain was so great that Dad was pulling himself along on his stomach with his elbows. He couldn't kneel. The pain was too great for him to kneel. Everyone who has talked to me has remarked how Dad smiled, and laughed, and talked happily with them as they worked in that field of onions.
"Now, this is the joke Dad told me on himself, afterward. He said he was there at the end of the day. After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone asked him, "Henry, good heavens! You didn't pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway."
"Dad just roared. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.
"When Dad told me this story, I knew how tough it was. So I said to him, "Dad, how could you make a joke out of that? How could you take it so pleasantly?"
"He said something to me that I will never forget, and I hope you won't. He said, "Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds."
"Now, you'll be in an onion patch much of your life. So will I. It will be hard to see the powers of heaven magnifying us or our efforts. It may even be hard to see our work being of any value at all. And sometimes our work won't go well.
"But you didn't come for the weeds. You came for the Savior. And if you pray, and if you choose to be clean, and if you choose to follow God's servants, you will be able to work and wait long enough to bring down the powers of heaven."
--Henry B. Eyring, "Waiting Upon the Lord," Sept. 30 1990
Sunday, April 11, 2010
"Paint Skills"
Back in the days of narcolepsy, I had a really hard time staying awake in class. (I still have narcolepsy, but that is another story...). To remedy this problem, I would exercise many parts of my brain simultaneously by taking notes with one hand and drawing on paint with another.
I'm no artist, but I think I have pretty sweet paint skills...
PS--did I mention that I did these on a laptop touch pad? Pretty amazing, I know.
I'm no artist, but I think I have pretty sweet paint skills...
PS--did I mention that I did these on a laptop touch pad? Pretty amazing, I know.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Facebook "Friends"
Just a side note, I have decided that I have graduated to using capital letters now.
Yesterday was my birthday, which made a very convenient opportunity to find out who my "real" facebook friends are. Actually, just an oppurtunity to see who uses facebook enough to know that it was my birthday, or those who just "randomly" happened to check their facebook and see that it was my birthday.
The point is, for the past several weeks I have been thinking about what a weird forum facebook is. The political discussions aside, facebook is still weird.
Don't get me wrong. I love facebook. I love being able to keep up with my friends and acquaintances from years and years ago. Most of them aren't good friends, which means that I would not email or call them after 4-5 years of not hearing from them. But, with facebook, all you have to do is see that their status has been updated "I'm getting married!" "Isn't my son cute"...etc, etc. and you can keep up with their life. And at least feel like you have friends.
But sometimes, I think that facebook friends go a little too far. My facebook friends now number in the 300's--which wouldn't be a problem except my facebook page is always filled with random people's status updates. And I think to myself, "Who is this person? Oh...yea, she was in one of my classes 4 years ago...I think." And then, I have lived in several different countries, so I sometimes get posts-posts, not just status updates-in different languages and from people that I frankly don't remember.
And then there is the add friend application. When someone adds you as a friend and you don't recognize them, what do you do? What if they really are waiting and expecting to be your friend but you don't recognize the picture of their face covered with paint or their very adorable child? How lame does it look when you don't "friend" them because you don't remember who they are? But what if they really don't know you but think they do? Then you get those annoying status updates and eternal invites to join facebook farm.
No, thanks. Facebook is just not my primary farm forum.
So lately, I have been thinking that I need to clean out my facebook friends. If I don't recognize them, "unfriend."
But then I just might not have any friends at all...
Yesterday was my birthday, which made a very convenient opportunity to find out who my "real" facebook friends are. Actually, just an oppurtunity to see who uses facebook enough to know that it was my birthday, or those who just "randomly" happened to check their facebook and see that it was my birthday.
The point is, for the past several weeks I have been thinking about what a weird forum facebook is. The political discussions aside, facebook is still weird.
Don't get me wrong. I love facebook. I love being able to keep up with my friends and acquaintances from years and years ago. Most of them aren't good friends, which means that I would not email or call them after 4-5 years of not hearing from them. But, with facebook, all you have to do is see that their status has been updated "I'm getting married!" "Isn't my son cute"...etc, etc. and you can keep up with their life. And at least feel like you have friends.
But sometimes, I think that facebook friends go a little too far. My facebook friends now number in the 300's--which wouldn't be a problem except my facebook page is always filled with random people's status updates. And I think to myself, "Who is this person? Oh...yea, she was in one of my classes 4 years ago...I think." And then, I have lived in several different countries, so I sometimes get posts-posts, not just status updates-in different languages and from people that I frankly don't remember.
And then there is the add friend application. When someone adds you as a friend and you don't recognize them, what do you do? What if they really are waiting and expecting to be your friend but you don't recognize the picture of their face covered with paint or their very adorable child? How lame does it look when you don't "friend" them because you don't remember who they are? But what if they really don't know you but think they do? Then you get those annoying status updates and eternal invites to join facebook farm.
No, thanks. Facebook is just not my primary farm forum.
So lately, I have been thinking that I need to clean out my facebook friends. If I don't recognize them, "unfriend."
But then I just might not have any friends at all...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
April 7
Tomorrow is April 7, and, well, it is kind of a special day for me. You see, on April 7, 1829, Oliver Cowdery began to work as a scribe for Joseph Smith as he translated The Book of Mormon.
Of this period of time, Oliver Cowdery wrote: "These were days never to be forgotten--to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom!...What joy! what wonder! what amazement! While the world was racked and distracted--while millions were groping as the blind for the wall, and while all men were resting upon uncertainty, as a general mass, our eyes beheld, our ears heard, as in the 'blaze of day'; yes, more--above the glitter of the May sunbeam, which then shed its brilliancy over the face of nature!...
"I shall not attempt to paint to you the feelings of this heart, nor the majestic beauty and glory which surrounded us on this occasion...I shall ever look upon this expression of the Savior's goodness with wonder and thanksgiving while I am permitted to tarry; and in those mansions where perfection dwells and sin never comes, I hope to adore in that day which shall never cease." --Messenger and Avocate, vol. 1, pp. 14-16
How wondrous and awesome and amazing would it be to transcribe for Joseph Smith as he translated the Book of Mormon--as truths were revealed that changed the world, the perception of God, and the entire mass of organized religion!
But why do I remember such obscure dates and details? Well, April 7 is my birthday...
Of this period of time, Oliver Cowdery wrote: "These were days never to be forgotten--to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom!...What joy! what wonder! what amazement! While the world was racked and distracted--while millions were groping as the blind for the wall, and while all men were resting upon uncertainty, as a general mass, our eyes beheld, our ears heard, as in the 'blaze of day'; yes, more--above the glitter of the May sunbeam, which then shed its brilliancy over the face of nature!...
"I shall not attempt to paint to you the feelings of this heart, nor the majestic beauty and glory which surrounded us on this occasion...I shall ever look upon this expression of the Savior's goodness with wonder and thanksgiving while I am permitted to tarry; and in those mansions where perfection dwells and sin never comes, I hope to adore in that day which shall never cease." --Messenger and Avocate, vol. 1, pp. 14-16
How wondrous and awesome and amazing would it be to transcribe for Joseph Smith as he translated the Book of Mormon--as truths were revealed that changed the world, the perception of God, and the entire mass of organized religion!
But why do I remember such obscure dates and details? Well, April 7 is my birthday...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)