if you judge people, you have no time to love them

in one of my classes we're reading a book called "bonds that make us free" by c. terry warner. it's not about marriage, although it really does sound like it is. it's about treating people the correct way, the way the savior would, although warner doesn't actually say it that way. anyway, he tells the story of a guy who has this teenage rebellious son named robby. he tries everything he can think of with robby, but robby still hangs out with the wrong crowd and disrupts their family. the dad comes to view robby as ruining their lives and their peace. he resents his son for this. then one day he goes into his home office and finds an essay on his computer, which had been written by tom, robby's older brother by four years, for an english class at college. i don't know if it's totally legal, but i'm posting it anyway. it really touched me, and it only looks long. give it a chance. this is the essay written by tom:

"Cowboys and Indians is our favorite--we always play, just Robby and I. At first we are both mighty braves, but I soon become Chief, and Robby my warrior. We play all day, then at night in the darkness where no one can see I say, 'I love you,' and he says it back. It is weird to say that to another boy, but I love Robby. Our dreams are like movies, to run away to the mountains, living like Indians with long hair.
"Tufts of hair fall onto the sheet hanging around my neck, one end of the hair frayed and split like a horse's mane, the other clean and sharp. Summer is the time for hair cutting. The old sheet that Mom had wrapped around my neck hangs on my body limp. I have no muscles to fill it in. Clumps of hair fall onto my lap, forming a strange pattern on the stain positioned on the sheet...Robby and I have tried to avoid this for four years now. No one else on the block has to have a butch for summer, so why do we? Mom tried to cut it alone but she couldn't catch us. She waited for Dad to return from work. He plops me onto the high chair and sits there to make sure I won't move. Robby cries also. He could care less but he wants to be like me.
"Indian style, Robby sits on the floor, his face streaked like a badly washed window, the tears cutting paths in the summer dust of his face. He looks at me like a sad sheep dog, his hair in his eyes. I am the Chief and he is my warrior. He would rather die than betray me. I have given in and am having my head shaved, so he is also.
"The buzzing of the razor sounds like the background noise of our old record player. Mom's hands feel steady as I sit in the chair. Suddenly the buzzer stops. I hear the snapping of the scissors. I'm surprised when I look at my hair in the mirror. She's not going to buzz the whole thing. I step down from the chair with grown-up hair. Robby climbs onto the chair expecting the same haircut. He steps down completely shorn, like a sheep who has lost his prize wool. We are different for the first time and we both know it. 'It doesn't matter,' I say, but it does.
"That summer I sit at the table and tell stories after Robby goes to bed. I catch him looking and listening through the spaces between the stairs. He wants to hear my stories. But I have hair and he doesn't. None of my other friends are buzzed that year either. On the fourth of July, I leave with them and he follows me like a puppy. He has always come with me before, so why not this time? I guess he doesn't know what to do without me. 'Get out of here,' I say. My friends all laugh. He keeps following. 'I'm going to kick your butt if you don't leave.' He cries, tears cutting paths in the dust of his cheeks again, and I run with my friends laughing and following me.
"The night I lie down with firecrackers ringing in my ears. The door opens a little and I see shiny cheeks and a fuzzy head poke through the opening. 'Sorry I followed you, Tom. Good night, I love you.' I don't say anything. The door closes. I turn on the radio so I won't have to think about him.
"I love Robby. We are still best friends. At family reunions we stick together. I hang out with Robby because we don' fit with our cousins. They come from another part of the country; they talk different. This year at the reunion Robby and I don't have any shorts so we take off our pants. Our tan bodies are bronze, accented by our bleached white 'Fruit of the Loom' briefs. We find a sprinkler with which we can spray the other kids at the park.
"We take turns drenching people. Suddenly I turn on Robby, spraying him until he's soaked. He doesn't say anything, just looks at me and wonders. I'm tired so he takes the sprinkler. He suddenly turns on me. The water hums as it sprays past my ear. He can drench me. He hesitates, then turns and sprays someone else. I want him to spray me back so I won't feel like such a jerk. I walk behind him, pulling down my 'Fruit of the Looms' as I go. 'Just for that,' I say, 'I'm going to pee on your back.' He pleads no. I laugh. Yellow liquid splatters on his shoulder blades, steaming a little as it rolls down the trough made by his spine, down into the back of his shorts. He doesn't move. Christie, my little sister, sees. 'I'm telling,' she shouts. I run, with Robby running after because he doesn't want to be left alone.
"Dinner is not very good anyway. Salad and squash are all we eat in the summer because Mom says we are to grow what we eat. I just want to be excused. Dad looks up from his dinner at Mom and then at me. 'Did you pee on Robby today?' he asks. Without even looking away I say, 'No.' 'Did too!' Christie retorts. Looking at Robby, Dad asks if it's true. He doesn't even pause; he has already made up his mind. 'No, I was wet from the sprinkler,' he says.
"School comes again. Our hair grows longer. We are the same again, but not really--like and ice cream cone, if it starts to melt there is no way to make it look the same again no matter how you lick it. I need money now. I steal from Dad. He never misses the money, and only Robby knows. He never tells. Soon he needs money, too. He's young and gets caught.
"Dad asks who took it. I say, 'I didn't.' 'No one is going anywhere until we find out who took it,' Dad says, trying to sound mean. I look at Robby. He has faith in me. 'Robby took it,' I say. It is silent--like when someone dies, no one knows what to say.
"The Chief has betrayed his warrior.
"It would be better if he had betrayed me. When a Chief betrays his warriors, they kill him.
"Robby just makes new friends.
"He doesn't follow me around anymore, though he would like to. He still says, 'Good night, I love you.' I only answer, 'Good night.' Once he says it twice, hoping to hear me say 'I love you' back. But I do not say it.
"I am his idol still. Anything I do, he does. What I wear, he wears. Mom even stops buying separate clothes for us. Although he never lets me know that he is copying me, he wants to be just like me. I have long hair to my shoulders in a ponytail. He wants one too. Mom says no. We are different, and we both know it.
"I leave home for several years, and when I return, my hair is short. His hair is longer than mine ever was. He hugs me, but he doesn't say 'I love you.' At night I wait for him to return from his date. When he arrives, I say, 'I love you'--twice. There is no answer. He doesn't say it, but I think my warrior loves me still."

upon reading this, robby's dad's heart was softened. the essay isn't meant as an excuse for the boy's behavior. and the book doesn't even mention if robby ever changed. what changed was the dad's heart. it was opened towards his son. he no longer resented him, he just loved him. he viewed his son in a different light, in the light of love, and THAT is what made all the difference.

what life feels like right now

pinky and the brain brain brain brain

so obviously i've been off the blogging scene for a little while. so last night i thought i should check up on the list of blogs i follow. mostly this meant catching up on metta's blog because i don't know anyone else who writes as much as she does :) so...i read her blog about the myers-briggs personality test and i realized that she had done this test on almost the same day that i had taken it. small world. and she posted her results. my category is pretty funny, so i thought i would post mine. my letters: INTJ. my category: MASTERMIND. hahaha. don't you just think of EVIL mastermind? i do.

Rational Portrait of the Mastermind (INTJ)

All Rationals are good at planning operations, but Masterminds are head and shoulders above all the rest in contingency planning. Complex operations involve many steps or stages, one following another in a necessary progression, and Masterminds are naturally able to grasp how each one leads to the next, and to prepare alternatives for difficulties that are likely to arise any step of the way. Trying to anticipate every contingency, Masterminds never set off on their current project without a Plan A firmly in mind, but they are always prepared to switch to Plan B or C or D if need be.

Masterminds are rare, comprising no more than, say, one percent of the population, and they are rarely encountered outside their office, factory, school, or laboratory. Although they are highly capable leaders, Masterminds are not at all eager to take command, preferring to stay in the background until others demonstrate their inability to lead. Once they take charge, however, they are thoroughgoing pragmatists. Masterminds are certain that efficiency is indispensable in a well-run organization, and if they encounter inefficiency-any waste of human and material resources-they are quick to realign operations and reassign personnel. Masterminds do not feel bound by established rules and procedures, and traditional authority does not impress them, nor do slogans or catchwords. Only ideas that make sense to them are adopted; those that don't, aren't, no matter who thought of them. Remember, their aim is always maximum efficiency.

In their careers, Masterminds usually rise to positions of responsibility, for they work long and hard and are dedicated in their pursuit of goals, sparing neither their own time and effort nor that of their colleagues and employees. Problem-solving is highly stimulating to Masterminds, who love responding to tangled systems that require careful sorting out. Ordinarily, they verbalize the positive and avoid comments of a negative nature; they are more interested in moving an organization forward than dwelling on mistakes of the past.

Masterminds tend to be much more definite and self-confident than other Rationals, having usually developed a very strong will. Decisions come easily to them; in fact, they can hardly rest until they have things settled and decided. But before they decide anything, they must do the research. Masterminds are highly theoretical, but they insist on looking at all available data before they embrace an idea, and they are suspicious of any statement that is based on shoddy research, or that is not checked against reality.

so yeah. is this me? i don't know. but i do know that i do not make decisions easily. take the rest for what you will.

oh, and if you want to take this yourself you can click here.

Like a streak of light He arrives just in time

Real-Life Spider-Man Rescues Boy

An unusual disguise has helped a Bangkok fireman rescue an eight-year-old boy who had climbed on to a third-floor window ledge, Thai police say. The firefighter dressed up as the comic book superhero Spider-Man in order to coax the boy, who is autistic, from his dangerous perch.

Police said teachers had alerted the fire station after the boy began crying and climbed out of a classroom window. It was reportedly his first day at the special needs school. Efforts by the teachers to persuade the pupil to come back inside had failed.

But a remark by his mother about his passion for comic superheroes prompted fireman Somchai Yoosabai to rush back to the station, where he kept a Spider-Man costume in his locker.

The sight of Mr. Somchai dressed as Spider-Man and holding a glass of juice for him, brought a big smile to the boy's face, and he promptly threw himself into the arms of his "superhero", police said.

Mr. Somchai normally uses the costume to liven up fire drills in schools.

[i found this article on the movie website worstpreviews.com which has tons of movie previews, not just bad ones. there is no listing of an author]

personal prophesying

it shall soon come to pass that it wilst become twenty-five years since the time of my birth, thus leaving such little time before it wilst become thirty years from the time of my birth. and this shall be my list of things i shall accomplish before that wretched and miserable day.

30 things to do before i'm 30

1. dye my hair blonde
2. own all seasons of the cosby show
3. live alone without any other people
4. visit all those people in ha-WA-ii
5. run a mile without dying
6. learn to play chess
7. go on a cruise
8. stop biting my nails
9. invent something
10. see topgun
11. take my picture in times []
12. taste edible gold
13. finish that stupid cross stitch project i started in 7th grade
14. read anna karenina
15. go to a music concert
16. own all brand new socks at some one point
17. learn spanish
18. own a fancy camera and actually take pictures (do this before 11)
19. do a backflip
20. play the cello
21. take a cooking class
22. give more to charity than i can afford
23. get my teeth whitened
24. learn to surf or sail
25. get my portrait painted--and like it
26. build/re-do a piece of furniture
27. buy and learn the ukulele
28. learn to ride
29. MACHU PICCHU
30.

you may have noticed 30 is missing...so it's up to you. what should my #30 thing to do before i turn 30 be? please leave your suggestions and be creative! thanks!

p.s. i'm totally going to finish my list before lisa finishes hers--forcryingloudout.blogspot.com

according to time magazine...

94--number of convicted sex offenders in the czech republic castrated in the past decade despite protests from human-rights groups

feb 23, 2009 issue

another nail in the coffin

so tonight i went with my 13-year-old sister, becca, to new beginnings (a young women's thing). please note that becca is THIRTEEN years old. did i mention that becca is 13? so after it was over we were sitting there eating dessert and a member of the young women's presidency (it's a new ward so they don't know everyone) came up and said "so are you rebecca's mom?" i replied, "nope, sister." she quickly tried to recover by saying "oh, you're definitely too young to be becca's mom." TOO LAAAATE.

for crying loud out. becca was born when i was TWELVE years old. i was younger than she is now. do i really look that old? i am turning 25 in a couple weeks. do i really look old enough to have a thirteen year old daughter? depressing.

25 ways you can tell you're turning 25
1. the thing you're most looking forward to is the drop in your car insurance
2. you start lying about your age
3. you think the new music on the radio is garbage
4. you start analyzing every aspect of your life
5. people begin addressing you as sir/ma'am
6. you wonder if you should begin using those anti-aging products you see in commercials
7. you remember meeting someone four years ago who was 25 and thinking they were insanely old and now. . .
8. you want to feel "all put together" like an adult. . . but you don't
9. social pressure really starts to lose its effect
10. you've started a blog
11. you make sure someone knows your funeral instructions
12. they start playing the songs you listened to in high school on the oldie's station
13. you worry about turning 30
14. you worry about turning 40
15. spending the evening home alone watching a dvd sounds pretty appealing
16. you can no longer pull an all-nighter without feeling sick
17. concealer doesn't go as far as it used to
18. you start recognizing symptoms of alzheimer's in yourself
19. making goals and life plans consumes your thoughts
20-24. lists with more than ten points bore you
25. you get mistaken for your TEENAGE SIBLING'S PARENT!