The Sublime Roundabout

So I read this this morning: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-32136892 I am at once confused and deeply troubled. The confusion comes from this - what exactly did the Governor think he was signing? Didn't he read it? Didn't he have his team of legal folks tell him that this law was fraught (FRAUGHT!) with issues? Didn't he understand that this a discriminatory, hateful thing which just should not be? Apparently not. So, I've written a few laws myself. A fair few. And I've read A LOT of laws. Where I work now has a land use ordinance that seems cobbled together like a Frankenstein of many different laws and iterations all over the State and Country. This is not unusual - plagiarism is alive and well in planning circles, because what is working well in one place just may be of benefit in others... But the problem comes when there are contradictory items in the code. And even more problematic is when the code does not reflect the intent of the govern

Here's an interesting article: http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20150330-where-nuclear-subs-go-to-die I spent the night once on Mare Island. I was on a training assignment at Concord Naval Weapons Station back when I was in the Naval Reserve. We'd flown in to Alameda Naval Air Station and got rental cars over to Mare Island for the night. The night was very long - I think it was after midnight before we got berthing - and started early again the next morning. I'd received my initial boot camp training at the San Diego Recruit Training Camp. All of these bases are now closed, including the Concord Naval Weapons Station. The San Diego boot camp has been converted to houses and shops - my old barracks where I used to sleep is now a fireman's training location, from what I gather. The "grinder" where I practiced my marching skills has turned into a parking lot for the nearby San Diego airport... I wonder if people think about how many hours of blood, sweat,

There is something about The desert Something In all that nothing The vast heat That sere environment That sears The souls Of seers And strips away The mundane Focusing the mind and heart On what is really significant The sun is Unforgiving And the air dries life from A person's soul Each venture into this place Is an existential battle Survival of the fittest And I will survive this dearth

Yep.

I was asked recently what my favorite season is. The answer is - whatever season it currently is. So, for today, it's SPRING. One of my favorite things about spring is the return to the short-sleeved shirts. So, here you go:

He hesitated, then continued, speaking so softly his voice did not echo in the small cavern. “You have never really felt it, have you? But of course. Who could you love? Your heart is claimed already, by the power you so strongly desire. There is no room left.” Rand let go. He let go as Lews Therin never had been able to. Even after discovering Ilyena, even after realizing how Lanfear had used him, he had held on to hatred and scorn. You expect me to pity you? Rand had asked her. He now felt just that. Pity for a woman who had never known love, a woman who would not let herself know it. Pity for a woman who could not choose a side other than her own. “I…” she said softly. Rand raised his hand, and then he opened himself to her. His intentions, his mind, his self appeared as a swirl of color, emotions and power around him. Her eyes opened wide as the swirl played before her, like pictures on a wall. He could hold nothing back. She saw his motives, his desires, his wishes for mank

Anyone can build a wall Only a real genius can open the wall To let in the light

Hello there. I recently read this: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/mar/11/mainstream-left-silencing-sympathetic-voices?CMP=soc_567 While I don't agree with everything he writes, he brings up some interesting ideas. Mainly, the thrust seems to be that if you don't conform to people's ideas about what they expect a "liberal" to be, then you're an unorthodox heathen, or (an even bigger sin!) you're simply ignorant. And this is a very difficult position to find one's self in. What if, after all of the discussion and information searches, all of the careful, thoughtful weighing of all available evidence (read: wikipedia) ;) - what if after all one can reasonably be expected to do, one arrives at the understanding that one just doesn't know? I want to understand the world. I want to respect people from all different backgrounds. I want to learn what I can from everybody, and I want to be able to amend my own way of thinking based on

“I’ve never had a man do that for me,” she continued. “Taringail saw me as a pawn, Thom as a beauty to be hunted and romanced, and Gareth as a queen to be served. But none of them made me their entire life, their heart. I think Thom and Gareth loved me, but as something to be held and cared for, then released. I didn’t think you’d ever let go.” “I won’t,” Tallanvor said softly. “You go to Tear. Yet you said you’d never leave.” “My heart stays here,” he said. “I know well what it is to love from afar, Morgase. I’d done it for years before this fool’s trip began, and I will do it for years yet. My heart is a traitor. Perhaps some Trolloc will do me a favor and rip it free of my chest.” “So bitter,” she whispered. “You have made it amply clear that my attentions are not wanted. A queen and a simple guardsman. Pure foolishness.” “A queen no longer,” she said. “Not in name, Morgase. Just in mind.” A leaf fell from above and struck the pool. With a lobed margin and verdant richness,

I heard this song earlier today. Sometimes songs just fill me with such sweet hurt, such intense longing and desire... Sometimes a song is just right. Right. For someone like me who feels things deeply, I love this kind of thing. It reminds me that I am alive. Pain and loss can be just as sweet as joy and peace. And, I think these kinds of feelings, these contrasts, provide depth of character and relish to life. Lyrics: You've got a face not spoiled by beauty I have some scars from where I've been You've got eyes that can see right through me You're not afraid of anything they've seen I was told that I would feel Nothing the first time I don't know how these cuts heal But in you I found a right If there is a light You can always see And there is a world We can always be If there is a dark That we shouldn't doubt And there is a light Don't let it go out And this is a song A song for someone T

I only type with three fingers on each hand. And my thumbs on the space bar. I don't know why. My pinkies may as well be useless appendages. Oh, wait - I use my pinkies for the apostrophe (') and for the left shift button. Weird. Also for hitting the "Enter" button. Now you know.

Check this: The infrastructure in our country is a joke. But the even bigger joke is that while everyone concedes that it's a problem, no one is doing anything about it. Sigh.

So I started a stained glass beginner's class yesterday. It was great fun! I was the youngest person in the class by probably 20 years - which is fine. And not to brag or anything, but I was pretty good at cutting and shaping the glass. It's OK to be impressed by me. Many people are. I'm excited to learn this stuff, though. Ever since I learned about the beautiful stained glass adorning the amazing cathedrals throughout France and England, I have wanted to learn how to create these kinds of works of art myself. The instructor of the class had something laid out that he was working on for a customer. It was very beautiful, if somewhat common - a mountain scene. What inspires me, though, is both the use of color and light to create moods, feelings, and images. (not his work, but this is similar to what he'd done) I am interested in how to best do this. Some stained glass is a glowing photograph of detail: Others tend to be more impressionist, giving hints o

Ammon attended the Prom - Here's a pic or two:

This one's for you:

“A woman’s love can be violent, Lews Therin murmured. Sometimes they hurt a man worse than they think they have, worse than they mean to. Sometimes, they’re even sorry afterwards.” Excerpt From: Jordan, Robert. “Knife of Dreams.”

This made me weep. In a good way.

I was recently reminded of a brief encounter I had while I was in London. I was walking across Westminster Bridge, between the Palace of Westminster and the London County Hall. The bridge was swarming with tourists and locals, vendors selling chestnuts and sweets and tacky souvenirs, and the regular street traffic of folks just getting to and from. It was awesome - sometimes just being someplace is a reward unto itself. I was standing at the railing and soaking it all in when I was approached by a young woman. She asked (very clearly American) if I wouldn't mind taking a picture of her and her friend. I was happy to oblige, and upon returning her camera, she asked if I was LDS. I answered that I was and she said she was, too. I asked her how she knew that and she smiled and said she just knew. It's one of the many things I love about being LDS. People know who you are. You look and act different. And it's inescapable. For some, they find it oppressive and limiting. But

This is my engineer's scale here at work. It's been snowing very hard all morning. Keep in mind that the approximately 1/2 inch of extra plastic you see at the top of this end is the same on the other end. When I went to bed around 11 pm last night, there was a heavy, wet snow on the ground, and the temperature was about 34 degrees. The snow had accumulated about 2" at that point and was tapering off. This morning, though, at about 4:30 or so, it started again in earnest. As of 11 am this morning, this is what we've received (about 11"). Here's some video of the way it looked last night:

I wonder if you Feel things The way I do If the tears well up inside you Making your eyes leaky And your heart soft And your soul bright I wonder If you feel things the way I do Why do I have to wonder Are you afraid to show? Are you afraid to be vulnerable? Have you been hurt in the past? Maybe even by me? I wonder Maybe, someday You'll show me how you feel