The Sublime Roundabout

I read this article this morning: http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2014/09/29/352419627/domesticated-robots-and-the-art-of-being-human I won't quote it here, like I usually do, because it is pretty extensive. It's worth a look, though. The article brings up questions of artistic expression and how we use technology to manipulate the world around us. There is also the idea that this technology manipulates us, as well, shaping how we see the world and how we interact with each other. I'm particularly interested in how the evolution of the use of technology has enabled different kinds of artistic expression. The article mentions that we first used technology when the first person picked up a rock to get food - probably hunting. Since that time, we have continued to change and progress in our use of technology to express ourselves, to change our world, and to be more human. As we do so, we are also changing what it means to be a human. I had a conversation once with a fr

When I was in architecture school, one of the assignments we got to work on was a "propaganda machine". It was a fascinating exercise, one where people came up with very creative ideas to express understanding about the world and how to convince others of their point of view. It also implicitly demonstrated that architecture and art have an impact on the way people think, feel, and live. One of the groups chose to explore ideas of sex and gender. Their motto or catch phrase was - there is no gender, only sex. Which (obviously) has stuck with me. I consider myself a feminist. I'm not sure if I need to clarify that - it should speak for itself. I am aware of discrepancies and inequities based on sex or gender and I think they're wrong. I am in favor of equal rights, pay, and access to health care. I am in favor of a world where women are free and able to choose their own path for their lives. I am absolutely in favor of a world where women can make choices regarding

Where you exist Is not a matter of vision Though you are assuredly beautiful Your hair shining in the sun Your eyes, your skin, your shape Nor is it in a sound Though your voice is lovely And I love the way your dress sounds As you walk next to me The gentle swish of your stockings The click of your shoes on the pavement Nor is it in a smell Though your fragrance is one of Sunshiny spaces Of open fields full of wildflower Of sweetness and joy and peace Like petrichor Nor is it in a taste Though your lips are sweet You fingertips delicate and warm on my tongue Your warm skin tasting of salt And ripe raspberries Nor is it in a touch Although this may be the closest For when two people touch They are no longer two But one If it's done right And, dear heart, You do it right No, not in any of these Is where you exist You are in my soul You are the light of my soul And your radiance fills me with warmth Not all the distance Or time or space Or w

There is a place called earth And there is a place called heaven One is a place for living The other is the realm of dreams The space betwixt the two Is where you exist for me For you may be a living being But you remain also chimeric, illusory  O, thou ideal! Thou art so fair! Thy radiant, golden light Shines bright in my soul And pulsates there In a like manner  To my own

Is there anything more heart-wrenching than seeing your child ill or banged-up? This is a pic of my sweet daughter. She was riding her bike when slick pavement caused her to wreck. Unfortunately she banged her head and face on the pavement. The arm scrapes are bad enough... She's at the dentist today trying to get that shattered tooth remedied. The poor thing! I hate seeing her hurt. I know that hurts of all kinds are inevitable, but it's hard as a parent to see your child suffer in any way. As my children get older, I'm starting to realize that they are not constantly under my direct supervision, and as a result will occasionally have accidents and experiences that will cause them pain that I might otherwise have been able to help them avoid. I suppose accidents are those unavoidable situations which can and do happen. And I also suppose that that's part of the experience here in our mortal condition - sickness, hurts, heartache are all part and parcel... As I

We've had a new person start here at work. She's going to be our office administrator/administrative assistant. I'm pretty excited to have her on board. I'm hoping she'll work out better than the past one did. :( At least, I hope she stays longer than four months. As part of the inevitable get-to-know-you conversations, I was asked what kind of music I like, and if I minded if she played some music. The standard - oh, I like everything - escaped my lips. After which, she turned on Keith Urban. So I came into my office and turned on some ska. Battle of the bands, indeed. When I was in architecture class at the U, there were 40 of us in our year, and we all had disparate views and tastes in music. Most of us would plug into our headphones and listen that way. There were inevitably a few, however, who felt that they were the self-appointed DJs for the studio, and their music would be loud and ever-present. So I'm curious about that dynamic. First off, t

Reminds me of a banksy thing... http://memolition.com/2014/09/23/once-upon-a-time-the-accidental-tale-of-jerome-street/

If men don't have to be aggressive in order to be accepted, women won't feel compelled to be submissive. If men don't have to control, women won't have to be controlled. Both men and women should feel free to be sensitive. Both men and women should feel free to be strong. ... It is time that we all perceive gender on a spectrum, not as two opposing sets of ideals. - Emma Watson I really love the idea of gender as a spectrum. That both men and women should feel to be sensitive, strong. I know that these are just words, but words can be powerful, particularly if we all seek to understand the reasoning behind the concerns and then take steps to address them. It all begins with understanding, a voice reasoning with our better natures against that which would seem to drag us down, holding us in a perpetual night of the twin evils of ignorance and apathy. Where there is darkness, share a light. Where there is ignorance, share knowledge. In the words of Victor Hugo - Giv

The petals from my soul Sent forth on waters Now turbulent Now calm Carry forth my thoughts My feelings, my desires Ordering, cleansing, drifting Do not worry And do not be sad For the petals that appear weak Or infirm or dead For that which appears dead May impart new life Even as the blossom Continues to bloom and grow Stronger, ever stronger And more worthy

I pull them off slowly These petals of my heart And send them forth Into the world Upon swirling waters Dark and unknown Yet each is a part of me A part of my soul Some petals are fresh and new Fragrant and lovely Others are worn out Tired, wilted, dying But they each come from me Some come easily and freely Some are ripped out, unyielding Unwilling And as I send them forth Upon the waters of the world I watch them all drift away And wonder why anyone would pick one up But also secretly hope one would

To Marguerite: Continued BY MATTHEW ARNOLD Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone. The islands feel the enclasping flow, And then their endless bounds they know.  But when the moon their hollows lights, And they are swept by balms of spring, And in their glens, on starry nights, The nightingales divinely sing; And lovely notes, from shore to shore, Across the sounds and channels pour—  Oh! then a longing like despair Is to their farthest caverns sent; For surely once, they feel, we were Parts of a single continent! Now round us spreads the watery plain— Oh might our marges meet again!  Who order'd, that their longing's fire Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd? Who renders vain their deep desire?— A God, a God their severance ruled! And bade betwixt their shores to be The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

You pretend it doesn't hurt you But it does Every day Every minute Every breath The vast emptiness of the future threatens To consume your present Leaving you an empty, dried out husk Where once there was A person And you pretend it doesn't hurt you But it does You search for distractions in Writing silly poems Filling days with trivialities Banalities Fruitlessness Wanting to scream all the time But sound cannot be made in a vacuum Which is what your soul has become Pretending it doesn't hurt you But it does And you go on breathing Because what else is there? Existence, subsistence, continuance You live That is all. Pretending it doesn't hurt you But it does A paper cut A pin prick The hurt, the pain, the sorrow, the Regret The wonder, the fear, the despair Cumulative (from the Latin cumulus, meaning mass) And the crushing weight of the World of Expectations Frustrations Blighted hopes Empty promises, meaningless You

We withhold praise from each other too much. I don't know why that is, but we should tell each other how we feel more often, particularly when it is positive. Expressions of love, of gratitude, of confidence and respect... They're like roses blooming in what can sometimes feel like a parched and blasted day. I think we each have a lot of love to share. So we should.

So there I was, having my lunch, when a lady walked by and said - Hey! Doctor Who is here! Made my day. :)

This is my favorite girl. She may look a little tired in this pic, but she deserves to - we'd just hiked the trail to Timpanogos Cave on Saturday. She's becoming my regular hiking buddy. Makes me happy. She's a very beautiful girl. I make a point of telling her that every chance I get. However, I also make a point of telling her that her beauty is one where who she is is what makes her so beautiful. I tell her that her intelligence, wit, and personality are sparkling and beautiful, and that the choices she makes regarding her spirituality and lifestyle also make her radiant and lovely. I'm just her dad, so I don't know how much of it really gets to her. But one thing I am sure of - we have a great relationship and we talk about a lot of things. On the way home from the hike, we talked at length about her goals for her life, relationships with boys (even sex), modesty, and what she would like to find in a husband. I told her that she should be careful and se

That which Pandora opened Was not a box at all But a jar Within which she found The evils of the world held bound And after letting them out into the world Looked back inside the jar  With timidity and reticence To find therein Hope

For you My love song

She walked through the garden Enjoying the feel Of the soft, warm grass Tickling her small, white, bare feet The grass yielding To her footsteps Each step brought a new vista Each glance was interesting And beautiful And though there were brambles As she ventured further Into the verdant landscape They were not off-putting But added to the complexity To the interest and loveliness Of the garden as a whole She was peaceful and content The verdant, fragrant landscape So alive and so fascinating Drew her on Flowers blooming in a riot of variety Her breath, like a goddess Giving life, mingling with the fragrance Of the green, growing garden While there was no path She allowed her footsteps to Follow their own course Deeper and deeper Vista upon vista Layer upon complex layer Into the garden And then from somewhere she caught a whiff Of someone cooking french fries Enticing her away She went away to look for some fries And the garden never knew her again

Happy Thursday, y'all!

Yeah. I laughed at this. A lot. :)

As a follow-on to my last post... I am frequently concerned about how we treat each other. This seems to be a personal and inter-personal attribute as much as a geopolitical issue. We - all of us, to one degree or another - tend to forget who we are. We berate ourselves for imperfections. We chastise and judge others based on extremely limited understandings and experiences. We jump to conclusions based on appearance, on speech patterns, on momentary and fleeting glimpses into another's life. And we assume we know it all, when we really just don't. On the other hand, we could jump to conclusions that lead to greater understanding. We could start off by assuming the best in people. We could forgive ourselves for our imperfections, viewing them as opportunities for learning and progression and growth, rather than as limiting factors that will forever hold us back. It takes courage to discover one's weaknesses and then do something about them. The pride that is so univer

Yesterday we had Stake Conference. It was amazing, and I am grateful for the chance to attend. We have a very interesting stake presidency, one that is a little (just a little) on the unorthodox side. And I find it refreshing. In the Saturday afternoon session, the Stake President spoke about hypocrisy and how it was keeping people from coming back to Church. At least, that was how it was presented to him - that the hypocrisy that others noted in "faithful church-goers" was an obstacle to those who would otherwise attend. He was quick to point out that if the standard for hypocrisy is perfection then we are all hypocrites, because there was only One who was perfect. But then he turned a little more introspective. He said - I want you to consider yourself in a church meeting when someone walked in with ratty, dirty old jeans on, a filthy t-shirt, flip-flops (gasp!), smelling of smoke and maybe alcohol. What would be your first reaction, he asked. Would you reach out and sh

Some men who are evidently unable to gain respect by the goodness of their lives, use as justification for their actions the statement that Eve was told that Adam should rule over her. How much sadness, how much tragedy, how much heartbreak has been caused through centuries of time by weak men who have used that as a scriptural warrant for atrocious behavior! They do not recognize that the same account indicates that Eve was given as a helpmeet to Adam. The facts are that they stood, side by side, in the garden. They were expelled from the garden together, and they worked together side by side in gaining their bread by the sweat of their brows. - Pres. Gordon B. Hinckley

I love the sound of Sewing machines My daughter singing My son laughing The rain on the roof Road trip music A crackling fire Marching bands Sweet whispered nothings

She played with his heart Like a child with a bauble Picking it up when bored Or other distractions failed to please her But just as easily set aside When the merest potential For something better appeared

Every child in all the world looks upon his mother and sees the most beautiful woman in the world, even though many mothers are not beautiful. Do you know why this is so? The child looks with love, and sees love returned. Love is what makes beauty... And, truly, you are beautiful to me.

This is one of my favorites. I dig Lightfoot's voice.

Why are women's restrooms always on the left? Does it matter?

So, Monday was Labor Day. I like Labor Day - I like that it's kind of a nice break in where the year is going, a good day off work between July and November, breaking up what would otherwise be a nearly five month stretch with no paid day off. Which is good for everyone, I think. And speaking of good for everyone... The labor movement in the US needs some work. Pun intended. I worked in a factory in Michigan many years ago. It was just about what you'd imagine factory work to be like - monotonous, deadly dull, and repetitive. They tried mixing things up, and the company I worked for (at that time) was very conscientious about how it treated its workers. There were yearly bonuses (very good sized bonuses), there were pizza and donut parties (not at the same time) for folks who came in to work on Saturdays (it was a voluntary thing, and having a little food brought in was a small but nice gesture, in addition to the time and a half). I was relatively inexperienced but an ea

Literally... You get to see some of my awesome graphics for my amazing powerpoint presentation, as well as the back of my head in the lower right corner as I watch the proceedings... :) Good times.

I don't know if it's because I'm an old man (probably) or what, but I'm finding that the ubiquitous and excessive use of autotune is grating and annoying. We now return you to your regularly scheduled reading.

Not the "Mother of all Bombs"... Saturday Elise and I spent the day together. It was awesome - she even said it was the best day she's had in a long time. Which made me feel good. We got up in the AM and made our way to Moab and had lunch at the Moab Diner. It was crowded, but not unpleasantly so. I prefer my restaurants to be crowded, anyway - it's generally a sign that the food is at least passable. We drove up to Arches and got out for a hike. Here's some pics: Here she is enjoying the softness of the slick rock. :) She's so lovely. :) The end of the hike. Although it was only 1 1/2 miles, it was pretty upsy in places, so it was fairly strenuous. I may have gotten a blister. ;) She was a great trooper, though, and fantastic hiking buddy. Didn't complain once. :) We went to Dead Horse Point after Arches and enjoyed the view. It is stunning - one of my favorite places on earth. We didn't linger, however, as a tour bus debauched