The International Language: Love's Labors Lost in Translation

Just in case you weren't raised on a steady diet of 1980's television and movies, let me take you to a cinematic place called Better Off Dead.



I believe the moral of the story was that meeting a French girl will fix up your boss Camaro and completely eliminate your severe suicidal ideation.


Sounds great, right? But where in Your-Town, U.S.A. do you find a French girl? Well, in the movie she came courtesy of the next-door neighbors via some kind of foreign exchange program.

Unfortunately this exchange was not about cross-culturization--no happy commingling of fromage and apple pie, or baseball and wine swilling. No, this poor phillie was brought across the sea by the neighbors for the sole purpose of making a love connection with the unsightly Ricky.



If you want to know more, you should go to your local netfilx and rent the movie. But for our purposes here you only need know at one point it is said that though Ricky doesn't speak any French, and the phillie doesn't speak any English, the two are nevertheless communicating just fine using the international language.


The audience is then left to uncomfortably laugh at the idea of the grotesque, fat American having a romantic relationship with the attractive, captive French chick.

What's the point? I'm not sure. But I've recently had a brush-up with the romance on the world wide web--and trust me, it is world wide. I'm not sure if Ricky and the Frenchette were able to communicate any better, but in my limited experience courtship and attraction doesn't necessary translate well.

And with that very, very long introduction, I now present to you a collection of emails I have entitled "The International Language: Love's Labors Lost in Translation." While I think they are funny, I am not poking fun. I promise. It's funny like all of us are funny, and I think, above all else, this is adorable.

hi... desire to make many friends

Don't we all?

oh! I not though you get write to me...but thnak you!:).... yeah I had a great sunday really!!:):) nice to meet you DANIEL!!

You are very welcome. I'm glad you had a nice day.

oh! Thank you Daniel!!...How was your day! here in Peur it is summer and great but sometimes not ahaha weel...I work doing proyecto envorimental I study it...and I love it career really.....I'm member as 14 years and u dear friend?.

Uh... It's winter here. There is a lot of snow. And I've been LDS for all my life.

oh much snow there it must be beautifull but difficult for the card !! no?.......oh woww all your life you are member of the church woww I glad for you friend!.....
Well we are in summer here in Perú....all quite!!:)yeah, you have luck:) hahahaaaa I believe it ...I think all your family is member truth....I glad for u really.... How was your day?....... You meet people by this?.

I am very lucky. And you are right, the snow is beautiful but hard to drive in. No, I haven't met anyone from the internet. The idea kind of creeps me out.

Wow, lol How you get creeped out? I have. :) been interesting. Mostly I meet great people :)

you look so official in your clothes. i like good guys:) :) Muy guapo must say!

Well, if you must...

Report

More miserable failure.

1. Sleep goal: One out of ten. (I'm going to need an intervention.)
2. Writing goal: Maybe one page out of three.
3. Reading goal: Still one book ahead.

Last week's book was Blink.


I really enjoyed it. The book wasn't nearly as helpful as it could've been, and the content was largely stuff I had read elsewhere, but Gladwell can flat out write. The book moved quickly and was engaging.

However, Gladwell does quote some police men, and police men do swear like sailors. Be ye forewarned.

Sacrament Poetry

I've been accused of being cynical. Or maybe the word was "jaded." Either way, I didn't take it personally and I wouldn't refute it. (In fact, I'm usually impressed when people have the candor to be so honest with me.)

So I am jaded. It's true. But it's not the whole truth.

Sometimes I can be humane and vulnerable and cuddly and down-right, boyishly naive. I'm complex. But these poems aren't.

I wrote them all in LDS Sacrament meetings, and I didn't write them because I was bored. (Which is something a jaded person would do.) But because I was touched and wanted to give in to things that I didn't understand. (Which is something a person who is only sometimes jaded can do.)

Orderville

________Shuffling boots
____and cowboy-cut suits,
_________row after row
_of heads seldom combed

_________Still-wet parts
brave boys battling callicks
________Contrite hearts
_____worn by earth's grit.

_________Humble men,
_____taller than steeples.

Warts and All

He...
He came down, born in a manger.
And the Child
grew and waxed and filled with wisdom.
He knew man,
in all points tempted as we are,
yet without sin.

He knelt in that garden and pled,
Let this cup pass...
Nevertheless, He drank the cup
to the bottom.
And now He really knew mankind--
warts and all.

It was a miracle
that He died
and rose up on the third day.
It's a miracle
that He suffered for my sins
in The Garden
and suffered all over again
on The Cross.

But it's no less a miracle
that knowing me
and that knowing you--
warts and all--
He still wanted to take us
Home with Him
Because He really does know us
and still loves
Us.

Red Checkmarks

Josephus B. Waters,

Check.

Everette Cain,

Check.

James G. Bennet,
Hyrum L. Pizor,
William Blakeslee,

Check.
Check.
Check.

One by one,
all together.

Gone for now,
but not forever.

Check.

Drop by Drop, aka The Sunbeam

Drop by drop,
blue, green, orange, and brown,
M&Ms fall
into the empty sacrament cup.
I don't think
Jesus would be displeased.
After all,
He wants this little boy
for a sunbeam.

Backblog

So I'm a little behind.


Which is both an accurate description of my circumstances and of my personality.

Let's look at my goals for the past three weeks.

1. Sleeping.

I have no idea how I'm doing on this, but I'm not doing a great job. I was busy. And I got sick. And there was one night last week where I didn't sleep at all. My guess is I'm still hovering around 25% to 33%. I might have to do some tinkering to get this going in ernest (misspelling intentional out of deference to James Varney, R.I.P.)

2. Reading.

I'm crushing it. Since last reporting I have read, chronologically: Truman, The Wednesday Wars, Change Anything: The New Science to Personal Success, and The Back of the North Wind.

Truman was a masterpiece. Heartbreakingly good. McCullough shifted seamlessly from the intimate and personal to broader global and historical context, and the compelling nature of the story was never lost.


The book has crystal clear, incredible detail, but never seems to get bogged down. The prose is largely without fault--a real accomplishment for a 1,000 page biography--but more impressive still is the great mental effort that went into collecting, sorting, refining, and arranging the pieces.

It's a tapestry of thousands and thousands of threads, laid out and arranged to near perfection.

I seldom gush. Even when people ask me about my favorite books, I will typically address the one or two flaws I found. Not here. I was overwhelmed by the accomplishment, and I can't say anything otherwise.

3. Writing.

I think in the past few weeks I netted two or three pages. Not stellar. In addition to the novel I've been working on, I started a short story about a conversation between a lark and a Catholic priest.

I'm pretty sure Hollywood will want to make the lark/priest story into a full-length motion picture because I've chosen a premise with such universal appeal.

Makes sense.

The First and the Last

When I say coach, I mean Jerry Sloan.


The Original Bull...


The last of the Jazz Legends.


Whenever I say coach, I mean Jerry Sloan.