Over the past couple weeks I have done a lot of assessing, especially of why I am in the life positions that I am in, and why my belief in myself and my ever loving status in life has not changed much in the past 10 years since I graduated college.

For the most part I guess I can blame myself for everything, though I have really fought for opportunities, read great books, tried to align myself with good people, take opportunities, work hard, persevere.

Yet... It feels like I have gotten nowhere.

I moved out of a pretty okay situation to have my own place and a sense of being an adult again, but now rent is high, (Like suspiciously high plus utilities) and there are no gigs coming in this month and I have no idea if I will be able to make all my bills and rent by the 30th.

And in anticipation of that fact, I've tried to set up work for this month.

One thing I've struggled with the past month or 2 is feeling that no matter what I do, I will always be at the poverty line and wont be able to buy a house, or set up any retirement, pay into social security or even having a savings account at one point. So I looked into how I felt 8 years ago vs now and weighed how I felt then, vs now, what I did then vs now. What were my attitudes? What did I say to people? How did I motivate?

I wrote a lot out of college. I read good books. I tried to make good business moves and the business moves failed. Not because of me, but because of the others that were involved. They just didn't follow through, or presented road blocks, or didn't get the big picture. It just doesn't compute. And I find myself quitting and giving up, because I get the same result over and over and over.

It's the same damn thing over and over, idea after idea, blocked and thwarted.

I struggle so much with depression and it makes it so difficult when the same things keep happening. I find an avenue, its a winning idea, and then... (fart noises)

In July I'll be 39. I really don't know what to do to break the cycle. I can't do this into my 40s. I have too many skills.

Perspective

A minute back I had a pretty rough day realizing my personal accomplishments are usually thwarted by a little minute flick of the wrist. I feel like I owe myself, and to everyone that was nice enough to reach out to me, a positives list. So here it be:

I was president of the drama club in HS. Why? I dunno. But I was. So that was cool.

I tried out for sports in HS. My freshman year I actually made the freshman squad. I practiced hard, played hard, and whenever I was put in I got fouled and shot free throws. (8th grade I got 2nd in a free throw competition) I usually made my freethrows so my playing time to points ratio was pretty outstanding. The coach was a dick and thought I didn't throw my back out during a game, thought I was faking it, also thought I was a problem kid because I brought a smoke bomb as a white elephant gift to the seminary white elephant gift exchange across the street and got suspended when the vice principal wouldn't tell me why I was being questioned and I got extremely pissed and slammed my backpack on her desk.. I had no idea my mom called them to go grab the gift away from me across the street from the school.

Anyways... If I'd continued on the team, I'd probably have never tried out for a school play, which has led me down the path that I'm on today.

Junior year I was psyched about soccer and potentially making varsity as I had payed JV the previous year with a great coach. I had taken a 2 week soccer training camp and my skills were pretty great. Probably the best they'd ever been. I didn't make the team. I barely made the team my senior year and sat bench most of the time but played my heart out. This has taught me a couple things... go full boar at things when you've been given a chance to do them. Hit it hard, put your heart into it. You may not get the results you want, but you will get results that echo for you in the future.

Whip Brawler: Though I had a mediocre computer and had to "borrow" a camera from work, I was able to make a movie for about $500. I didn't expect it to happen that way, but it did. I mostly begged, borrowed, and 'borrowed' everything for that movie and it was helped by some peeps on to Amazon Prime which has been cool to say to people. It took me about 30 hrs to do the closed captioning because my computer was so slow, but it got done and there it is.

In college I: Learned how to tap dance, sing, ballet, modern, sword fighting and bo staff, had my own morning radio show, got my hands on a camera and editing software for the first time, started doing improv, got an ACTF acting award, learned some of how to direct, got to travel to San Francisco, San Antonio, and Arizona. Met good friends, met really dramatic bad friends, and most of these while under considerable duress from having my heart broken and becoming an enemy of the theater college head and thus several students who picked a side for some reason.

Out of this mess, I was able to change colleges, receive a better education at WSU, cut almost all ties with people from WSU, and land at a SUU friends house right out of college during the recession.

My WSU days were not happy ones, but I was able to barely get though it, and it gave me perspective on millennials, which has been a real eye opener.

When I turned 31, I was exiled to the old persons singles ward for church. I was no longer welcomed with the 30 year olds. At the same time, the credit rating of the US was under threat.Time went by, politicans said that the world would end, and eventually... it did not. So my mind started to wander about leaders in politics, church, organizations and I wondered if what anyone was telling me was true. Grey areas started to appear and my world became more deep and understanding. So even though it was extremely tough to switch singles wards, a lot of wisdom came out of it.

Adopting a dog was interesting. While in Jackson Hole doing summer stock theater, I fell in love with a dog I was fostering named Senyor, A basenji mix that would wake me up in the morning by putting his paws on my chest and yodeling like basenjis do. When I went to adopt him, the granola lesbians at the shelter told me I couldn't because they thought I wouldn't have enough time for him, so they adopted him to a farmer in idaho. I was so pissed.

2 years later, I found Zoey on petfinder and I was dead broke. There was no way I could get her so I forgot about it. A month later I mysteriously received a life insurance policy check from my grandmother. My mom had taken out a policy on herself when she was 19 and it was forgot about. Suddenly I had enough money to get a dog. So I went online and searched again and emailed about Zoey again, without knowing I was asking the rescue about the same dog. Lo and behold it was meant to be, so I traveled to New Mexico and scooped her up.

A couple months later, Zoey got in to a fight with a golden retriever at the house I was staying at. She had a gash under her eye and really needed stitches, but I couldn't afford it, so I went on ksl to sell my bike to cover the cost. After posting photos, I looked and saw that there was a Jobs tab at the top, so I clicked on it and at the top of the list was a video job. so I threw a resume at it. 4 days later I was hired for my first part time video job! All of these occurrences are not a coincidence to me, and I owe it all to my Mom.

I served a full time mission for 2 years in dumpy PA, OH and WV areas. What I thought was the hardest 2 years of my life really were nothing. They were easy compared to how its been. I learned a lot about people I guess. I also learned that I'm miserable when I'm trying to be incredibly spiritual. I'm pretty miserable anyways, but to tack on so much guilt doesn't do me an ounce of good.

I could go on with this journal entry, though I think I'd rather just sum this up... All things have led me to the path I'm on today. I can't stand corporations or desk jobs, I have to be in a creative field that has plenty of variety. My arms are not long because I am not meant to play basketball or professional sports. I was a single child because my mom's head would've exploded with more than one kid and I turned out to be singular and specific. I am not general. I do not paint with broad strokes. I did not get married to devil women because they would've made me miserable. I am lucky to have freedom to pursue my career, though it a slow, very painful, lonely process.

Cheers to you. I hope you gain perspective in your life.

Story for my departed

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By

Lucas Millhouse (Summer 2007)

            “Build my pyramid!”  The evil pharaoh chanted.  The whip cracked once again over the slaves, as it had many times before that day.  This time flesh separated.  An old man screamed out in pain and dipped towards the floor, recounting his balance.  Times weren’t always like these.  Smells of wet wheat and dry grass sifted through his memory once again.  He longed to be home. He longed for something familiar and normal.  Not this! Not the whip again!

            “What the hell do you think you are doing?  You are to build my husbands pyramid.”  The yell from atop the brick complex came screeching down upon all of the laborers, bouncing off of their sweaty hides.  It’s too late for mercy.  It’s too late for justice.  Only thing to do now is to grin and bear it, if that were possible.

            “I am building, as fast as I can.  I am only one man.”  Feeble retorts made no dent in the mindset of the Pharaoh and his wife.  At times it seemed like Pharaoh didn’t think for himself.  He seemed to be a puppet in the hands of his all knowing and controlling wife.  Sadness filled the man’s heart as he thought about this.  A man must be in control of his own heart, of his own family, and not be swayed to and fro because his spine is not stout enough.   Building a kingdom takes back bone, in more ways than one.  One must be able to stand before he/she walks or runs.  Must the kingdom be patient while muscles are taught their jobs?  Must the heart learn to be a few steps ahead before it can keep up with the body?  What about those missed steps?  When will there be time to learn those?  None, if you are constantly hauling bricks.

            Sweat dripped into his eyes.  He made it to his feet once again, tired and burning. Heat from the sand slowly spilled in from the sides of his sandals. No escape from anything.  Will becomes a factor in such times.  Once a lion, the man whipped into submission by more than just a lousy task master, he cowered, scared and broke into a corner licking his wounds, forgetting that plotting an escape was an option.  Who would want to escape, except those who knew better.  He trudged on, pushing the boulder like brick up the landscape of the pyramid.

            A knee gave out. “AAAAAhhhh!  Help me please great one!  Have mercy on your loyal servant!”  He let go of his portion of the load and jogged over to the injured man.  The man screamed in pain.  There was no hope.  At a glance he saw that the knee of the man had finally buckled under the pressure of the Pharaohs task.  Bone tried to protrude through skin.  “That man will soon die.” He thought. “He’s no good to anyone now.” A deep sigh ensued. “I wonder if he had all steps mastered before his time came. 

            Who knows…

            The thought of his light timber house and dusty steps gave way through his memory.  Comforting for only a moment, and then passing through the thought went.  Alas, another memory giving only momentary pacification.  Still the burden weighed him down, constantly, never ceasing.  Never knowing, always burning.  What will give relief next. 

            Heave, heave, he thought as his legs contracted and extended time after time after time.  Sand ground into his feet, in-between his toes.  Calluses protected him from re occurring wounds.  Calluses on his body protected him.  That was his problem.  Hardened areas of his body and soul blocked out all intruders and protected him from further injury.  How smart his body was without him realizing it.  How protective it was of itself. How hard it is to figure out what your body already knows,  especially when you push bricks all day.

            Making its way to the top, the brick slid with every push of the slaves.  The great grinding of the brick on top of the set mortar shook pebbles loose, sending them gently bouncing off the sides of the massive step like structure.  The old mans mind broke free.  He started to whisper…”Freedom, let me be free.”  Once again he said it, but louder.  “Freedom, let me be free.”  It started to catch on.  The man switched positions on the brick and started forcing his entire body against the brick, in a different direction.  He groaned and grunted and started to scream as his whole body flexed into the rock.  Few others were brave enough to join in, but they did, fearless and bold.  “Push.”  “Let me be free!”  The rock slid, closer and closer to the edge of the pyramid.  Others, pushing bricks below staggered and looked up in awe, their minds being saturated with new ideas.

            Again, sweat sopped hands pushed into the brick.  It slid and ground to the edge, where it teetered for a moment.  The task masters whip cracked, spilling more blood, but everyone being so entranced with what was happening, no one figured some lashings mattered.  The earth went quiet and the wind gave one final gust.  The brick slid and fell, tumbling, bouncing, shattering and exploding into a cascade of cosmetic destruction, devastating the pyramid.  Others pushed their big tasks off of the pyramid as well, only to be whipped and almost killed in the process.  Some could argue that they were justified, some would not.  The old man simply thought “When you’re done pushing, you’re done.”

             And so he sat on the edge of the pyramid, listening to the chaos and happiness around him, and he found a moment to breathe and stretch his fatigued body.  He peered down at the devastation the heavy cement brick had made and though to himself “All things must be done in order. If one brick is unstable, the pyramid could crumble.” 

            So he wept. He wept so people might understand. Wept for a day when things could be normal.  Wept for a day when things were steady.

I just wanted to write something

I just want to write something.
I have been in a rut lately. Not that there's anything new with me and ruts...
It is hard to have an inkling of creativity when you have no idea why things just don't go in a positive way. Especially work wise. I was hoping to have a little bit of income. Enough to do things with, but alas, the universe sees fit to starve my bank account. I've tried to get clients. I've followed up. I've done everything I needed to do to get more jobs, but nothing has come of it besides one gig for a DJ from CA. It turned out to be ridiculous, and a super hassle. They screwed me out of 100 dollars.

I've been working on a film for 2.5 years. It's nearing productions (or so we think). I have been effectively cut out as director as of today. It's not fair whatsoever. It's horrible. It's depressing. I've also been pushed out of being the Lead Producer, even though it's my project and I have been the spear head the whole time. I get things done. It's not fair. It's horrible. It's depressing. They're probably not going to let me act in my project. They're only going to let me be a Producer.
The night is young as far as this  project goes. I still want to direct it. I don't really see a good project for me on the horizon. And if I don't direct this one, I probably wont be able to direct anything for a good long time.

Last week, I was in LA with a friend. I had an impression, while praying in humble supplication with God, that it was not going to be a productive week. God was right. We met with the bank, which was a meeting we really didn't need to have IMO. It could've been done without us there. I didn't get to have my directors meeting because the dist company fellows skipped town. I made a great presentation, spent money to get it printed and bound, and didn't even get an interview. The whole point of the trip was for me to interview to be the Director of my own project, which isn't my project anymore.  I spent 3 days of the trip in a super depression. Plus, I had 3 dollars to my name.

There are many other facets that tail along with this story, but I shall refrain from exposing them on the web. I just wanted to complain, and feel validated, something-dated. Dated even. But I'm none of those either.

B Team

During the course of my life I've felt like I've been consistently put on the "B" team.
It all started in 7th grade, when I tried out for the school basketball team and was told by one of the coaches that I didn't make the A team as a point guard because I was "needed" on the B team to help make them better. Now that's the type of gobble de gook you eat as a kid, and I ate it wanting to play basketball and win some games.

I'd consistently drive down the lane and dish the ball. Years later, I have no idea what my percentages were, but I'm sure there is some game film on vhs somewhere in my dads house right now. I did my job and I tried to do it well, but when you play with the B team, you don't progress past B team skill because you don't play with A team players very consistently. That year I got in to the finals of a free throw shooting contest between me and Scott (last name forgotten) the quarterback of the football team, taller than I was, weighed more and I believe was also the pitcher on the baseball team.
First round I made 9 of 10 shots and so did he. Second round I made 8, he made 9. There was no applause, there were no trophies. I think a new basketball was at stake.

From that point on, I played on alternate teams. I strive-d to be a better player. There was only one guy that could dribble as good as I can with my left hand, and he was a black kid from central and he was left handed.

Then came high school. I made the freshman basketball team, only to sit bench and play 2 minutes average a game. I always got fouled. I always scored 2 free throws.
I injured my back that year, in a game, and the coach ignored it. I asked to be taken out of a game after going up for a rebound and tweaking my back. I had to go to the doctor to get it re adjusted a couple of times. I also got expelled for throwing a fit at a school vice principal because they wouldn't tell me why I was in the principals office. Later I found out my mom had called them to get me because I brought a smoke flair as a white elephant gift to first period seminary. So, that drove me nuts, and got me expelled for a day. The coach asked me why I did it, and I told him the truth, but it was like he didn't want to believe me.

Later that year at basketball camp for JV, the JV coach paired me up with a guy that was taller and probably 30 lbs heavier than me and kept running a box out drill that I couldn't do because Seth kept pushing me over. Since I felt the coach was a dick about it, I did not show up for JV tryouts the next year.

So I moved on to soccer. Soccer I excelled at, or maybe I just had a really good coach that placed me well as a JV player. I played a lot that year, with my friends, on a pretty decent team. I had fun, felt needed, and skilled.

Junior year, I took a skills camp, that was like 6 hours a day for a week, from some dutch coaches, and my skills were top notch. I felt like I was a magical master but when it came time for tryouts, I didn't make the team. New coach that year. I did play my senior year, but sat bench the majority of the time. The coach was a dick and we still make fun of him. So... whatever.

Now, when it comes to theater, I've never been a slouch (or so I've thought) I've almost always had really good success. I felt successful in high school, but at SUU I felt like I was always looked over, or passed over, or this or that. Maybe I was, maybe I was just too young looking for anything. Maybe I sucked.

I finally got an award my junior year, playing a schizophrenic boy in an over religious house hold. I got the part because I was one of two people to audition. The author said he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to play the part. I didn't believe him, but I took it for what it was worth.

After my mission, I landed a bunch of roles at WSU, but I felt like I was just seizing an opportunity because I was the only straight and masculine male at the school. Plus, I looked like I was 26 or older so I had that going for me against these skinny guys. I captured several awards and felt like I excelled.

Out of college, it has been quite a struggle, because I get hired on to do stuff, but then never hear back from crews or agencies after. A production house here in Utah hired me to do some stuff, and then I broke my leg, and then they thought I was lying to them to get out of being a Productions Assistant because I had taken an acting role in which I had to ride a horse and fell off of the horse, and the DP told the production house they saw me there and so the production house didn't want to "take the time to figure me out."

I always seem to be misunderstood. The most crippling thing that has every consistently happened to me in my life is no one having the balls to give me feedback, especially when I ask for it. This could also be an issue for me, because I do give feedback and am honest and straight forward. Maybe it is the state I am in. Maybe the people cannot handle it.

I never know if I piss someone off or if they don't like me, or if I'm forgotten about. This is also a recent occurrence and has bent on me financially. I'm kind of the backup to the backup. I don't feel like I'm B team material anymore, especially in this field. I don't want to be on the B team.

I actually don't want to have a team classification, I just don't want to play on the B team anymore. I want to play on the A team. I try and conduct myself as an A player, so I can get those opportunities of which I desire, but the opportunities are slim pic kin's, and the A players are even more sparse.

Problem being.... How do you play with the A team when you've been playing with the B team so long? And when my time does come to hit the court, how on earth will I know if my skills will be good enough to rise to the occasion?

Oilpan.

Profound things and Baskeball dribblings

I've probably already written about this, but will write again. Some of my most profound moment have been on the basketball court. Somewhere between the hardwood and the hoop, I find myself being shown exactly what kind of attitude I have toward life. My attitudes, short comings, insecurities come out in the oddest ways, and I dont realize it until its happening. I will speak of four instances, all of which could and should be used in a speech sometime.

1. "What are you waiting for?" One day a big Tongan fellow, I estimated 280-300 lbs and about 6'7" entered the court. His legs were spry compared to most Tongan fellows of his size and he had astounding lateral movement. We were on the same team, and at this time in my life, I had gotten over having a broken leg after kicking a wall at the same gym, probably a year previous. I was playing as hard as I knew how. Someone shot the ball and as I remember it, there was a guy about 5 feet behind me at the top of the key and a couple of guys off to my left. I turned to get the rebound and for some reason, the ball was very slow on the bounce off the board. At that point I felt no real reason to jump for the ball. I was going to let it come to me. Then I was going to pass it down court and score a touchdown.  As the ball started on its trajected path, I hear the chatty Tongan fellow yell at me. "What are you waiting for?!" Directly at the back of my head, though he was a couple of yards away. (he should have been rebounding)
After we played more, and probably lost, I thought about this statement. It pissed me off while it was happening because I hated going to that court and taking instruction from people who just shot 3's all day long and never passed the ball. But I though about the statement anyway. I thought about if it applied to me on any other levels.
Yes, yes it did!
What WAS I waiting for in my life? Why wasn't I going to go get the ball? Why was I waiting for it to come to me?

2. "20 seconds to go, down by 1..."
Its ward ball and the battle has been roaring on for at least 31 minutes. The score is close and we have time to take a shot and win the game. I am on bench.
So... I'm watching the clock tick down as the ball is being swung around the perimeter. The whole time I'm thinking, "Oh no, we aren't going to win. We're gonna miss the shot and lose. We're gonna lose, we're gonna lose. Ah crap."  I hate losing but its gonna happen. My mental attitude was a Losing one. 
The though popped in to my head: Here are 3 guys around the perimeter that all want the ball, all want to take the last shot. They all want to win, they all want to try and put the ball through the hoop. They want to be that guy that took the shot and won the game.
And here I am... with the attitude of a loser.
Profound thought for me that I had the attitude of a loser. Its not every day you realize that and then want to change it. Some people recognize it, but at that point I had not.
Somebody made that shot and we won that game.

3. "Keep your head up."
in December 2012 I made the decision to quit watching pornography and to quit drinking. I had drank a lot that year, and was so confused as to why I had lost my artistic motivation. Well not to get too deep in to it, but pornography dumbs down the creative and the motivation portions of your brain, so, when I found this out, it had to go. I wanted to be successful and I wasn't going to let anything stop me.
Anyways, one night while playing defense I noticed that my head was up. My eyes were up, and aware and I was confident. The year before and other years previous, I was not. My head was down, kind of saggy, and pointed at a diagonal towards the floor.
Point taken that the changes that I had made in my life had enabled me to be proud, be confident, and be more aware of what I was doing.

4. " I love my neighbor"
Ward ball. Both teams are kind of evenly matched. Our team has a guy who is a beast down in the paint, but he wants to bring the ball up every time. The other team has a guy in his early 40's, about 6'3" and is either x military or x football coach. We shall call him "Frankendick". So Frankendick is fouling a lot. The other team had come out in the 2nd half and was hacking and fouling a lot more than in the first. The score is close. Frankendick fouls one of our guys, like he is beat and he lets our guy blow by him and he just stands there and places his legs really far apart and trips our dude as he jumps to shoot. Our dude falls flat and hard. It was totally an intentional foul. I was about 15 feet behind him when it happened so I had a pretty clear on view.
A little time goes by and Frankendick and a different guy have a scuffle and I assume, since my back was turned that Frankendicky grabbed on and tripped our man. "Hey, you cant do that!" says our guy as he scoops himself off the ground. "C'mon, don't be a whimp." is the retort.
So with about 2 minutes left, I have the ball at the top of the key, Im working it a little bit, trying to find an opening. All of a sudden, Frankendickenstein decides he wants to play me at the pro 3 pt line. His fist swipes my stomach as he tries for the ball. I just throw up a hand like WTF and he retorts "Oh come on, I havent called one foul the whole time." So I pick up the ball and stop play. "Everybody calm down." I say. "WE ARE CALM!" Says a guy from the other team. Obviously.
An idiot from the other team charges the ball and I quickly evade. We take 15 seconds as I hopefully let my point set in that this is rediculous. After I had stopped play though, I had lost my will to play. The game was ruined for me. I ran for the next minute as they knocked the ball out of bounds with 2 seconds to go. Frankendickingtonfieldvilleiowa says "Game over, that's it." I yell "2 Seconds, lets go!" All of F's team mates are un honorable and follow out of fear, the Frankendick. We lose by 1.
Well, afterwards, shovel chin Frankendick is next to me and tries to give me a good game high five as is customary. But I was so pissed at this point, especially having the gall to say good game after, that I just blew by. I sat for 20 minutes trying to cool off. It gets in to my heart just typing this.
There are many lessons to be learned from this scenario.
        1. Don't be a Frankendick during church ball. Actually, dont be a Frankendick, ever.
        2. Don't be intimidated or anything by the Frankendicks of the world.  Most people just blow
            hard. Ive had people try and fight me on the court because my defense is so frustrating. But a
            real gangster wont talk, they'll just throw a fist.
        3. If you see that something is wrong, say something! Deal with the consequences ie.
            awkwardness, potentially violent rhetoric, threats, aggressive people, arguments. Its worth it
            to stand up for yourself and your team mates.
        4. Love your neighbor. Especially during church ball. Because...

"Church ball is for losers."    
                -Jonathan Tate

Number three is my big take away from this. I almost said something when it first happened, but I didn't. Why? Because I didn't want to have that awkward conversation, and I probably could not have had it without expletives and doing in that in a church is hard to justify. But I should have spoken up right then, right there. I should have made a difference.
Americans are like this, aren't they? Lazy and wont get involved. Are we trained to be apathetic? To let things go by and take the easy way? Lame U.S.

From now on I'm just going to speak up, and deal with the consequences.

4. "Getting a beat down"
When you're playing ward ball and you are obviously a better team, dont go full steam the whole time. Especially if you have a 40 pt lead and just want to make the lead bigger. Does this do ANYBODY any good? Nope.
People are already getting a beat-down in their lives, why go play church ball and get such an ass whoopin that they want to go eat a bullet because, obviously, they just aren't good at anything. Especially basketball.
This happened to us last year. Its no fun at all. Its not sportsman like and its a typical Utah attitude.
This also happened to me during a church indoor soccer league. The other team was winning, and by at least 10 goals, and they just were trying so hard still. Poor sportsmanship.
Go

Yo, is it windy in here?

Or is it just me?!
Cause you know it be goin down at my place.

First off, there has been a lot going through my head since I went to LA 2 weeks ago. A lot of information was dumped in to my little head. We also socialized a lot and made some connections. By the Monday of the trip, I needed a break. I went to the beach and dawned my chest to the ocean as it lapped around my ankles and knees. Trying to get as low as possible, I ducked my head in a couple times and lost my breath a couple times because of the temperature.
The significance of this event wasn't much. I stood out there and looked at the ocean and thought about how it brought so much joy to people, yet could be such a scary and devastating force.
I laid on the beach for an hour and listened to music until I was too cold to stay.
A typhoon hit Haiti a couple days later.

That night, I sat and ate seafood on the Santa Monica pier with a lovely, impressive, delicious woman. We finished and walked to the edge of the pier where gangsters were throwing fishing lines. One caught a crab and we took a gander at it as it pinched the walls of a bucket.
We talked about the universe, spirituality, how she thought a light coming towards us was one of those self lit lanterns. I thought it was a plane. It was.
The sea lions played in the water as we talked.

We walked back to the car, talking of books, and she drove me home where we stayed in her car for another hour talking about apostate dealings of Joseph Smith. It was probably one of the deepest conversations I have ever had or at least that I can recollect. I came away upset. I really like this girl, but hate the timing of our paths crossing again. I'm on a good path. She's on a journey.

So, the conversation got me to thinking and asking questions that I've never really asked before, or maybe I've never really taken them seriously. 1. Can you marry someone who's a non believer, and reconcile that with God? 2. What could I do from here for this human being? 3. WTF?

1. I came to the conclusion, just a few days ago that... yes, you can marry someone outside of the LDS faith, have a perfectly beautiful life, and progress from there. Maybe that's what you need. Maybe that's more beneficial to you and that's the path you've been given for several reasons. I laughed at myself for about 10 minutes. If this was to be my trial... yeah of course it was. Of course. Thanks a lot. But... someone's gotta do it.

2. Her spiritual journey had nothing to do with me. I read Ether 12:6 just haphazardly opening up the BOM for answers, and it said that you will receive no witness until after the trial of your faith, and as I read the rest of the chapter, I understood that this was not about me at all, and that I was not needed for this. All I could do was love her and be a sounding board of information, but not to push her one way or another. Which is a difficult thing, because I love spirited debate.

3. WTF! Yeah! WTF! My dad visited this weekend, and as we were talking over burgers at Culvers, I told him of the scenario. He said to me, "If you want to get married outside of the church, I will come to your wedding. (insert smile)." This took me by surprise. "But good luck." Said about the scenario and my decision making. Ultimately, I don't think its going to go anywhere. But it has been nice thinking about, figuring out, and finding out what is up.

Its' distressed me, I'm not gonna lie. She would be a great spouse. She has the things I've been telling myself I've wanted in a wife since HS. I might not find another one like this.

Anyways, Friday I had a meeting with my boss. There's a lot to this story as well, but to sum it up, I felt like I was being lied to or something. I had been asked to edit some videos by the VP of marketing, and I sent a preview asking what I needed to change or add, and never heard back from him or the president of the company. Instead, Wednesday, they bring in a little 20 yr old soda jerk to make videos and borrow the cameras. I asked myself and a couple co workers.... "why aren't I the one making videos for the company?"

Who the fuck knows.

So, in this meeting I find out that the president of the company wasn't thrilled about my work so they got a guy to do it. No idea why. Still don't know why, but I'm told I'm not approachable and that's probably why. My boss was just kind of in awe of himself and why he let me get away with things. What things? Come in at 11:15? Who cares? Text you and miss another day of work when I have no way of coming home? Don't be an asshole. I put up with your shit for 3 years, and I've been a hostage of a corporation with an hourly wage with people that just wont "develop and foster (me) from within."

And I was just done. So I said a little prayer in my head asking if it was a good decision and I got a warm feeling in my chest and I resigned. Tired of the bull shizzm. Tired of feeling like I'm second rate, putting forth the effort, not getting any return from my efforts, and tired of the looming displeasure of my boss which I know is there. DONE. Don't ever call me un-loyal to the company. I threw myself on my sword for the training department.

I have no back up plan, but it doesn't matter. I'll figure something out. I know God has my back. I'm peaceful and happy.

During the past month or so, I've felt guided and led and protected and enabled. Mostly guided though. I've gained a lot of answers to prayers though searching and pondering and discussions with others. I feel like I'm in uncharted waters and I'm unnerved. Hopefully this next year will be a good busy year and we can make some movies and some money.

And avoid all the BS.
Update... the next day this wonder girl told me she didn't want to date me and would rather date this fitness model she is seeing. #ofcourse.