Like

     So, like, you know how, like, some people, like, say, like, "Like," like, every other, like, word, like, all the time?
     Oh my gosh, of all the things that people say that drive me insane, this takes the cake, easily. I hate the word "like" when used as a filler. It's so, like, irritating. Seriously. That doesn't mean that I don't use it occasionally, and it's not like words like "um" and "eh" are less criminal, but some people just can't stop using the filler "like."
     I have a good friend named Riley—my best friend back when I was a tween. I used to hang out at his house all the time, which means that I had a lot of interaction with his little brother, Logan. Back then, Logan was the "annoying little brother," so I didn't pay much attention to him, but he said something one time that I haven't forgotten in seven years (and I'm sure he heard it somewhere else, but I attribute it to him because he's the only person I've ever heard say it): "you know, if people replaced the word 'like' with 'monkey,' they'd realize how ridiculous it sounds."
     I love that! Let's see what happens if we apply it to the first sentence of this post: So, monkey, you know how, monkey, some people, monkey, say, monkey, "Monkey," monkey, every other, monkey, word, monkey, all the time?
     If possible, that sentence actually became even more annoying.
     And it's not even that the word itself is so bad—it's just distracting. Have you ever listened to somebody and counted how many times they say "like" or "um"? Or do you know someone who uses either or any other filler word consistently? If the answer was "yes," then that proves it! It drew enough attention to itself that you noticed; it pulled you away from their point. I was once in a public speaking competition where we all had twenty minutes to write a three minute speech based on a surprise prompt, and the older brother of a friend of mine spent the entire event tallying everybody's usages of "um." In three minutes, I think I had thirteen. The worst offenders reached up to twenty-five or thirty. And interestingly, there was a correlation between the amount of times contestants said "um" and where they placed in the competition. I tied for third place, and the winner had his "um"s cut down to two.
     Our points are far clearer when we cut out the distractions. Too much hand motion, lip licking, hair touching, etc., and soon people think more about how to imitate our posture than emulate our principles.
     We live in an age of opinions and self-proclaimed experts. Everybody wants a say in everything, and if it's said passionately enough, it must be true. If it's a meme or on Buzzfeed, it's factual. All celebrities are now authoritative, scholarly sources—even Rosie O'Donnell, who has no business weighing in on anything, frankly. There are many memes featuring quotes by celebrities that say impressive, inspiring, or idiotic things, depending on where you lie on the spectrum. But how do we know that those quotes were actually said by those celebrities? We don't. At all. But we trust it because it's a meme, it has a picture of them, and it's easier to believe that someone knows what they're talking about than to think that they don't. So we trust, and then we take inspiration and share our own thoughts.
     Some souls are actually valiant, truth-seeking individuals who study, research, ponder, decide, and then speak. I applaud such modern day heroes who value truth above sensationalism, principle above popularity. I know many people who fit this description, most notably my brother, Jason, who is expertly informed on just about any political topic known to man. Whether or not you agree with these people, you have to give them credit for their scholarship.
     Sadly, though, even these people fall subject to the plague of "like"—not necessarily in word, but in distraction. Some things they say or do pull listeners and readers out of the conversation and signal only their flaws or mockable habits.
     The BIGGEST example of which I can think is the ALL CAPS strategy. Does ANYONE appreciate being yelled at like this? I know that the purpose is to put EMPHASIS on the KEY POINTS of the argument, but I feel like the person is just angry. They just seem FURIOUS. And no matter what they're saying, no matter how much sense it makes, I'm deterred by their vindictiveness.
     You know the next one. And if you don't, just agree with me. It's telling readers and listeners what they do or do not know/should or should not do. Seriously. I'm right. You understand. Don't ever write or speak like this. People will hate you. You're just gonna turn them off. But you already know this, so just be nice. Now. Write kindly. Make your points the way I tell you to. Or else. Okay, breaking from that, isn't that annoying? I find it incredibly annoying. I break this rule occasionally, for which I apologize, but my brother, Tyler, pointed this out to me recently, and it made me realize how arrogant it sounds when people tell you what to do or think and act like you agree with them and like if you don't, you're an idiot. That last part is hard to avoid when you speak boldly, but I think it's important to be especially careful when discussing issues on which people intensely disagree.
     Rambling. Don't ramble. Rambling loses people. I ramble. It's a bad idea. People get lost when I speak because it takes me so long to reach my point. That is all.

     And then there's Donald Trump. For all the hype he gets about racist, arrogant, or otherwise insensitive comments, this is my biggest issue with him: his facial expressions while other people speak. He rolls his eyes, nods sarcastically, and constantly expresses his disgust with those around him, often without speaking. I don't know anyone who enjoys speaking with people like this. It's just annoying. You know that no matter what you say, they won't listen. So you stop speaking. Well, I do. I assume you do. But maybe I'm wrong.

     There's a million more things, but I think that's clear enough. Human beings are intelligent creatures. I was talking to my friend, Conrad, the other day about The Lord of the Flies and Hobbesianism, which basically suggest that man is inherently base and animalistic, reverting to uncivilized tendencies. But Conrad pointed out, "Man created civilization. They obviously didn't want to live like savages. They wanted to improve." I thought it was a most excellent point. People are good. They're smart. They have valid, valuable things to say. But sometimes all of us say things in such a way that the message gets lost in the minutia. It's hard to eradicate these tendencies entirely from our general mode of expression, but I would invite each of you to reflect and identify at least one thing you say or do that distracts from your brilliant insights. I know mine: I state opinions as fact, I ramble, and I employ a pretentious lexicon (I use big words that no one likes). I'm working on all of these, and I think we would a lot more effective in how we communicate with each other if we learned how to do so kindly, directly, and clearly. Christ never belittled, and He never tore down. He was a light on a hill and an example to the believers of how to communicate love, compassion, patience, understanding, and empathy. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all come even close to His level?

     Like, I don't know, but, like, I think that would be kinda, like, nice.

If we start now to communicate with love and clarity, the impact could be enormous—maybe even the difference between life and death:

Dually Noted

     The word "duly" is the adverbial form of the adjective "due," meaning proper, correct, or appropriate. Thus, "duly noted" is the equivalent of "appropriately recorded" or "correctly observed." I have on very rare occasions seen people spell this phrase as "dually noted,"containing the adverbial form of the adjective "dual," meaning "consisting of two." Completely unrelated is the word "duel," as in Duel of the Fates from Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, arguably one of the greatest scores in movie history.

     As I said, this infraction is highly infrequent, so it's not a huge concern of mine, but I think it leads to a good discussion.

     When two people get into a debate, discussion, argument, or whatever, it's generally not because they agree over something, right? Nor do they tend to address two completely unrelated topics. The cause of an argument is usually that more than one person contends for more than one perspective on an issue. Arguments and debates, by nature, consist of disagreements. Is that bad? Not at all when handled properly. The problem is that so rarely are these things handled properly.

     But what's "properly"? That's a whole other perspective right there! I'm sure you've realized by now that I'm in the running for The Most Opinionated Man in the World Award for the fourth consecutive year, so I'll tell you my perspective and dub it absolute truth. In lieu of this post, though, I feel obligated to acknowledge that I actually don't know everything and that my opinions are just that.

     I'm going to repent of my earlier statement that "duel" is unrelated to this topic. This is actually a pretty good place to bring it up. I feel like in your average, everyday, run-of-the-mill, ho hum argument, participants' intentions are to note things both duly and especially duelly (sic. Made-up word). Somehow, somewhere, the English language became corrupted to the point that "argument," "contention," "debate," and even "discussion" turned into nasty things where people let their emotions get the best of them and make unkind remarks sometimes having nothing to do with the matter at hand. (See my post, "Can I Axe You a Question?", http://the-angel-in-the-marble.blogspot.com/2015/11/can-i-axe-you-question.html). Arguments are now seen—or at least treated—as duels, wherein only one contestant will emerge victorious and the others (if they emerge at all) will be a bloody, shameful mess. Causes are advocated and defended, and no ground may be won by either side until it all goes down. No one can relinquish their ideals or reconsider their platform. Those who do so are seen as weak, tyrannical, wishy-washy, flip-floppy, and lacking in moral fiber. 

     Now, changing your platform just to please your audience is another story, but earnestly seeking truth should be the goal in any discussion—in all of life, for that matter. That's when things become "duly noted."

     I guess what I'm trying to say is that the end goal is to reach "duly noted" (the discovery of absolute truth), and "duelly noted" is the most common strategy for arriving there (even though no one ever gets there this way). So my suggestion is that instead of dueling in debates, we try dualing in debates. That may or may not be a made-up word as well. Bear with me.

     In John Stuart Mill's book, On Liberty, he says that "even if the received opinion be not only true, but the whole truth; unless it is suffered to be, and actually is, vigorously and earnestly contested, it will, by most of those who receive it, be held in the manner of a prejudice, with little comprehension or feeling of its rational grounds." I understand this as saying that even if we hear the truth, we won't believe it until it's been argued, and I believe that. Debate is a healthy, essential part of a balanced, American breakfast. Truth is truth, not perception, but it is interpreted and accepted through perception and perspective.

     In life, there are things that are good and others that are bad. We also have sections of things that are good, some that are better, and a few that are best. Lastly, we have things that are neither better nor worse—just different. So how do we sort them out? By listening.

     That applies both to listening to the person with whom we're speaking, which will enable a trusting relationship and bond of openness, and listening carefully to the Holy Ghost, who reveals all truth (Moroni 10:4-5). We can't begin to qualify somebody else's intelligence or relationship with God; that's personal territory. But we can hear what they have to say and treat it as something valuable. Everything in this world that interests at least one person is therefore technically interesting, because it has the capability of interesting someone. If we don't understand it, that's the perfect opportunity to hear something new and to learn from other peoples' experiences. Desmond Tutu said, "Differences are not intended to separate, to alienate. We are different precisely in order to realize our need of one another."

     Only by seeing things from another perspective (dually noting) can we begin to understand the truth. And hopefully part of that discovery will be that truth is far more subjective than we thought. From a religious standpoint, yes, there is absolute truth. God exists, we are His children, murder is wrong, etc. But when it comes to the gray areas, the only way to move forward is to move together, treating all perspectives as equally valid and worth discussing. In matters where what's right is evident and we just don't know how to accomplish it, then again, only through dually noting can we trust each other enough to figure things out. That doesn't mean we have to agree, but sometimes it means we have to let things go.

     Sometimes dually noting means that we discover we're wrong or that we discover that either way is equally acceptable. Regardless, be happy that you've now discovered the truth! And be happy that the people around you are happy, too. Applaud them in their search for truth, even if they may be slightly ahead of you in one category or another. We're all still just travelers, trying to find the right road. We can do that separately, or we can do it together. We can duel, or we can dual.

     Above all, we need to be wise enough to seek truth without self-interest, wherever it may be; patient enough to hear each other out, even if we disagree; kind enough to help and support others in their quest for truth, realizing that we're not the ultimate authority but merely fellow seeker; and humble enough to accept the truth for what it is, giving credit where credit is due—or, in other words, making sure that credit is duly noted.

Today has a double bonus! The first is a short video (one of my favorites) about realizing you don't have all the facts, found here: https://youtu.be/dbFiB7oiQs4, and the other is a talk given by an Apostle entitled, "Loving Others and Living with Differences:" https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2014/10/loving-others-and-living-with-differences?lang=eng. Enjoy!

There, Their, They're

     A place, a possessive pronoun, and a contraction all walk into Starbucks and order hot chocolate. When asked their names, they respond in completely unique ways, but the cashier hears the same thing and writes all the wrong names in all the wrong places, mixing up their orders and scarring humanity for all time.
     Thus the misunderstanding between there, their, and they're began.
     It was an honest mistake, really, but one that nonetheless drives me absolutely insane. I try not to let it get to me, but I can't figure out to how to ignore it. They same goes for "you're" and "your." *shiver*
     I used to say that I wouldn't marry a girl who couldn't properly distinguish "you're" and "your," along with "there," "their," and "they're." I've since repented and realized that people can still be good people while not understanding grammar, but oh how it irritates me...
     But people are people, and we make mistakes. And this is one of the most common, so I'll cut you all some slack and just explain the difference for those who don't know yet:
     "There" is a nonspecific location that is not where we currently are. In other words, it's anywhere but "here" (and if you spell it "hear" instead of "here," so help me, I will—).
     "Their" is like "my" or "your," but is belongs to the third person plural. E.g., "Those girls are eating a giant hamburger. Their hamburger is huge."
     Closely related is the difference between "theirs" and "there's." "Theirs" is the object form of the subject "their," basically meaning that it goes at the end of a sentence rather than the beginning: "Their hamburger is huge. The hamburger is theirs." "There's," on the other hand, refers to the fact or existence of something: "There's a hamburger over there, and it's theirs." But remember that "there's" only covers singular items; "there are" is correct for plurality. "There's a hamburger being eaten by girls. There are girls eating a hamburger."
     "They're" is the contracted form (the version with an apostrophe) of "they are." That's it. No special tricks. Just "they" and "are" combined and shortened, separated by an inverted comma.
     Let's put it together now. "The girls have a hamburger. They're over there eating their hamburger. My hamburger is gone, so I hope there's some left over from theirs over there when they're done eating it."
     Understand? I hope so.
     The reason I bring this up is because 1) it's a problem and it needs to stop; 2) my girlfriend sent me the above meme, and it's hilarious; and 3) the meme reminded me of something that happened yesterday.
     I got a ride home with some friends after class, and the one in the front seat joked, "What would you guys do if I randomly burst into tears?"
     I rubbed her arm reassuringly and said, "Probably this. And then I'd say, 'There, there.'"
     We all laughed at how ridiculous and ineffective the phrase "there, there" is. We all know it's horrible and not even the least bit comforting. So how do we comfort people?
     The simple answer is that it's not that simple. We're all (kind of) unique, so we all have (kind of) unique needs. We respond differently to different approaches.
     My girlfriend showed me a video the other day called "It's Not About the Nail." If you haven't seen it yet or just want to watch it again, you should click on this link: https://youtu.be/-4EDhdAHrOg
     I absolutely love this video! It's hilarious, and it's so true. Everyone I know who acts like the girl in this video denies that they do it, but that's beside the point. Some say that the only thing they need when they're upset is just to have someone listen to them. I disagree.
     Don't get me wrong—validation is important, but it shouldn't be the end goal. We'll never change if all we do is seek out people who will tell us that we're always right. We shouldn't surround ourselves with people who belittle us, either, but God put us on earth with family, friends, and associates so we could work together through our problems. We need people who will tell us how to improve.
     I love criticism. I hate rudeness, but those aren't the same thing. I love to feel like people understand what I'm going through. But when the problem is so visible to them yet just out of my sight (like on my forehead), then I'll be upset if they don't tell me how to fix it. If they don't know either, then I want to know that. I realized the other day that if somebody isn't afraid to tell me when something is amazing, when something is awful, and when something is decent but could use some work, I will trust that person until the dusk of eternity. I know that they'll tell me how they're really feeling, no matter how that is.
     I think sometimes we confuse how we need to be comforted with how we want to be comforted. Coddling feels nice and all, but it's not constructive.
     In the scriptures, God says that after an argument, we should go back, "showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom [we have] reproved" (Doctrine and Covenants 121:43). The increase of love implies a love that already existed and was known to the recipient.
     I feel like the same thing applies when we give comfort. The recipient won't believe us unless they've seen and felt prior that we love them. They need to know that we won't judge harshly, ridicule, or rebuke them for their actions. They need to know that we'll never let them go, no matter what they say. That's how they'll come to us in the first place, and that's how they'll open up. That's how they'll believe our validation, and that's how they'll accept our feedback when we identify beneficial strategies. That's how they'll know that our only intention is to help them.
     I don't know how everyone needs to receive their comfort, but I'm convinced that the best, most universal tactic is to love them long before they need comfort and to make sure they can't not know it.  That will come through attention, sacrifice, kindness, and never, ever, saying the words, "There, there."

God is so good at comforting that His Spirit is known as The Comforter and His Son is also called The Second Comforter. Here's an impactful video about how God comforts us when we're having a hard time:

For All Intensive Purposes

     That's a pretty intense purpose you've got there.
     The prepositional phrase "for all intents and purposes" dates as far back as 1500s English law, meaning "for every functional purpose; in every practical sense; in every important respect; practically speaking" (Wikipedia. Best site ever). Basically, essentially, virtually, practically, pretty much. Taking all possible intents, purposes, goals, and designs into consideration, but regardless of what they are, then it must be concluded that _______.
     Somewhere along the line, the phrase got misconstrued as "for all intensive purposes," which sounds cool but has no functional meaning. It's like saying, "As a result of all deep, rigorous, and thorough resolutions, we see that _____." Goals alone aren't enough to determine outcome.
     But just because a good purpose is incomplete in and of itself, that doesn't mean it isn't essential. We can't get anywhere in life without intending to. We won't accidentally get into college or happen upon a happy marriage. Some things in life come with little effort (so they seem), but nothing is ever purely coincidental. I'm a firm believer in God, and I see His hand all around me. I believe Him when He says that we will always be blessed when we do what's right—not necessarily right here and now (it would be easy to follow God if instant gratification were involved), but when He knows the time is right.
     When I got home from Chile, I got an amazing internship on a film set and later a resulting job publishing company that will be so instrumental in my hopes for a career as an author and screenwriter. The job was offered to me by a former Bishop that I felt like I needed to visit. He asked me about my school and work goals and said, "We're starting a movie tomorrow. Wanna come intern?" It was a miracle and seemingly out of the blue, but was it really? I attribute that blessing to the way I served my mission and how I was upholding the principles I learned there when I got back. I felt a prompting from the Spirit that I almost ignored, but I knew what I was feeling and trusted God. I'm glad I did. That doesn't make me inspiring or noteworthy, I don't think, but it's a personal experience that reminds me that no matter how sudden a blessing may appear, it's never unearned or coincidental. My missionary service was intentional. I constantly strove to work hard, be obedient, and serve others, and God is still blessing me for that.
     In the scriptures, the Lord commands us to be "anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of [our] own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness" (Doctrine and Covenants 58:27). I guess if we really tried, we could get through life without a purpose. But I can't even imagine what would happen. We certainly wouldn't have the smile of God's approval, and that's what I care most about anyway. True happiness is gained through sacrifice and hard work. God promises us blessings in return for righteousness, some bigger than others. The greater the blessing, the more intense our purpose needs to be. My most intense purpose is to make my Heavenly Father happy. I have an intense purpose to get married and raise a righteous, united family. I have an intense purpose to study, graduate, and work so I can provide for my family. One of my biggest intensive purposes is to return to the presence of God and stay there forever in His glory.
     My last post was about caring vs. not caring. If we don't care, then it doesn't matter what we do. When Alice asks the Cheshire Cat which path to take, he teaches that it depends on where she wants to end up. Just as we need to care about what happens to us, we have to be active in making good things happen for us. We can't control everything in life, but we can and should direct our course far more than we sometimes think. We can see, find, and create good for ourselves. It just requires effort and conviction, holding nothing back in pursuit of our goals.
     God designed this life in such a way that no one can gain anything of spiritual significance without working for it. He wants to us to be "things to act" rather than "things to be acted upon" (2 Nephi 2:14). So let's all work a little harder at remembering why we're here and where we want to go. And when we've done all we can do, exhausting our intensive purposes, we'll reach the potential God has in store for us.

For your enjoyment, a short video on living with purpose:

I Could Care Less

     Where are you on your spectrum of caring? I realize what a silly question that is, because we care about a great many things—things that we actually like and want to care about, as well as priorities that are forced upon us but we'd rather avoid, like school, work, etc. Some people genuinely like school. I don't understand those people, but they're a credit to the human race. For the rest of us, we don't want to care about school, but we have to because it determines so much of our future (so they tell us. See my last post about student loans).
     Anyway, pick something about which you care very little--maybe you don't care for it at all! In fact, that's better. Pick something you don't care about at all. For me, that's generally something like what I want to eat or wear or whatever. I really have no preference most of the time. Like, none. Rock bottom of caring. Another way to say that is, "I could care less," right? Wrong! How does that even make sense? What you mean to say is, "there is no possible way for me to care less about this," but what you're actually expressing is, "I have an indeterminate amount of caring regarding this issue. It is still possible for me to care less." I mean, it could work if what you meant were, "I don't care that much, but I care a little bit." But that's generally not what you mean to say, is it? Is it?
     Grammar Nazis everywhere jump on this colloquial mistake like free pizza on a college campus. It's one of the first things that comes to mind when we think of incorrect things that people say. So I hope that if you use the not-so-correct version of this phrase, you immediately repent and change your ways (I'm only kind of kidding).

     Why do we care? This is open-ended. It could refer to our personal lives, education, health, or anything else. There are also innumerable reasons to feel that something is important or worth our time. I don't think there really is a right answer or a wrong answer. The only unacceptable response is to not care at all.
     That said, why don't we care? I'm not talking about things that are actually inconsequential, like which type of cereal you buy. I mean big things—whom and how often you date, your major, your job (both what it is and whether or not you have one), etc—that we pretend not to care about. Not all of us, not all these things, not all the time, but there are certainly times when we act like we couldn't care less when we really could care less.
     So why do we put on a face? I think it's because we're afraid to feel vulnerable. If what goes up must come down and what goes around comes around, then what we say must be heard, how we react must be seen, and what we feel must be built up or shut down. I understand that. I have a history of putting my feelings on the line and hearing "no." I'm not seeking pity or anything—I'm actually really happy about the way my life is going right now—but it's true. I've tried not to let it eat at me, but it's hard to be rejected. I don't in any way want to diminish that. Someone once told me that the worst thing she had ever gone through was a breakup. I believe that. Emotions are tender; they break; they hurt. There's no way around that.
     But they also glow. They uplift. They fill. They strengthen. They complete. They're worth it. I can't think of a time when I've been proud of myself for pretending not to feel. But looking back with a mature, experienced perspective, I wouldn't take back any time I've let myself be vulnerable.

     God put us on earth to feel. He commands us to love one another (an emotion), to be of good cheer (an emotion), and to mourn with those that mourn (an emotion). I also saw in a movie that He commands us 365 times in the Bible, "Do not fear" or "Be not afraid." It's not that He's telling us not to feel, though. He just wants us to feel the right thing. We can feel sad from time to time. Christ Himself was described as "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3). He knows what you're feeling, no matter what that is.
     The prophet Alma taught concerning the Savior, "And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities" (Alma 7:11-12). To "succor" means to "run to." Christ suffered all things—sins, pains, sorrows, sicknesses—so that He could run to us when we need him. He knows you, and He knows how you feel. It's okay to be sad, but He doesn't want us to dwell in sadness.

     He also doesn't want us to not feel at the expense of experiencing negative emotions. "Men are that they might have joy" (2 Nephi 2:25). If we're choosing not to feel instead of feeling sad, we're not halfway there. We're actually going backwards. God wants us to feel joy, and He wants us to feel sadness so we can appreciate the joy. I bawled my eyes out watching Disney and Pixar's Inside Out because of its central message: it's okay to feel things besides joy. We can feel a mix of emotions that even we don't understand, and that's perfectly fine. But not feeling at all is an emptiness that I hope I never experience again.
     I know that emotion isn't a light switch. But if we let it, it can be a sunrise, gradually enlightening and warming the world around us. Every day consists of a sunrise, a noon, a sunset, and a midnight. Those are all essential pieces of our lives. So my hope for anyone who reads this isn't that every day becomes an eternal sun. I just think it would be nice that if when midnights come, we remembered that the sun's just around the corner.
     I hope that you, whoever you are, are happy. And that's something I could care less about, because I actually care a lot.

Here's a video based on the words of an Apostle, teaching us why we need a load in our lives, good or bad. An emotionless life won't lead us home: