Promise you won't get mad but...

Someday I'll learn my lesson.
Don't stay out after midnight. People become jerks.

Confirmed

Confirmed. It is the little things.

My first temp job after college was alphabetizing near where I lived at home. Life was plain, repetitive, and tinted with concern over my future career. I wasn't necessarily depressed, but not happy. My Dad took me out for Panda Express one evening and it didn't occur to me at the time that he did it to make me happy. It worked though- I was feeling so much lighter while eating one of my favorite 'little things'- beef and broccoli it was like magic. During a lull in the conversation I remember my dad watching me eat away happily. He said, "You not like your mom. It doesn't take much to please you." I ponder than from time to time. sometimes I think that's true and other times not. But if it were, then it would just have to be the *right* thing even if it isn't much.

Like tonight. He doesn't know it but I got my favorite 'little thing'. It's private, but it makes me happy. Happy for miles.

Little Things

Maybe this isn't as obvious as I thought. Commercials and valentines day cards have been saying it for years so why is it people forget to easily?

Saying "thank you" or "goodnight". When someone drops you off at home and waits for you to unlock the door before driving away. Or when someone remembers something you like or did. it always surprises me when someone asks, "so how did that thing go?" What about invitations for late night food runs. A silent invitation to have someone put their arm(s) around you. Or even, asking for what you've been politely waiting for like, "come here". Noticieing something small you worked hard on or care about. ******# was always good at that.  He noticed my flat shoes when we went out. and made me feel comfortable with and without my glasses. For some reason that's important to me.

I liked the jingle of my phone saying I have a text message and your name popping up. Because you don't have any real reason to text me, you just want to. I dunno, it's exiciting to flip open my phone and wonder what you're thinking about that would involve me. It's just nice to know you have my phone number.

I'm not asking for anything. I'm just saying the little things would make up for a lot.

Ihop

I had a dream that I had been in a relationship for a year. For some reason I was a guy at first. I went on a trip for work for a week and when I cam back, my girl had gotten engaged to a guy she had been in love with a year before. I was upset of course (and then became Casey again). Kchan and my little sister's best frined in high school, (my roommates?) tired to cheer my up as I lay in bed sorrowing. But they couldn't do anything. Which was okay because the first thought that came to my mind was that I didn't miss him/her as much as I did Kai. And also because Jeremy was coming. Which he did, and he was uncharisctaristicly sweet. At first he tried to take me out to eat but we couldn't pick a place. so instead he laid me with him in a big bed for an afternoon nap. While I was trying to sleep with the SUN IN MY EYES I heard my little sister's friend explain to onlookers that Jeremy was a friend that came over when I was feeling down. When I was tired of trying to sleep, he took me to the hospital. It was a whole deal talking to the doctor about my weight even though I was getting taller and 'hitting puberty'. But as I was leaving the hospital, (Jeremy and David Chitister had been tricked into a seminar about weight gain and I had just escaped some mis-begotten Valpak presentation from the doctors) I wandered around hollywood. In a studio where there were short models and guys that could ta dance, all my age. It was like seeing all the artistic success of my highschool friends under one roof. and I wanted to be a performer again for some reason. As I left, these three actors came out right behind me, jokeing and laughing. I pretended to to accidentally hit one of them with a coat over my shoulder so I could show that i too, had a dramatic side. They laughed and said I had mastered "Physcial Ambeufgeljsb" something. As I walked off laughing into hollywood alone again. but feeling much better  I got a text from Jeremy saying they were wondering where I was because they were waiting for me at Ihop.

Now I'm up. I'm going to Ihop.
Only the weird thing is now I'm thinking about Leonard Tim and Stephen.

No poet

Sigh. I don't have all the answers. Perhaps I should have... oh well. too late now. What should I do?

I guess I'll do my best? And try to fix what I've done wrong? That's all anyone can do.

I wish all choices were like buying a candy bar. I might regret picking this one, but since I already ate it, I can't go back. But in life, with that pesky "time" dimention added to the other human ones, choices can be changed. or at least adjusted somehow. And i'm a fixer.

Time to go home! Goodnight.

No texts.

Huh.
It's... I don't know how I feel about this. Today I recieved no text messages from anyone. I thought my phone had died or may have been on silent, but no- not one. At least not from a real person. I got an automated message that turned out to be spam.

I didn't even really chat with anyone today. Jeremy came online around 7pm to ask me how my weekend was but that's about it. A few empty sentences. Of course, writing this will guarantee I get no more for the evening and since it's already almost 10pm, it wouldn't make a huge dent anyway.

Most of the day I spent fretting about this new problem I have at work. But wondering about how long I'll be there for does make m e want to work harder. I didn't go home til around 9. I also spent a good amount of time imagining things I would say to Aino to help her understand what a royal pain she's becoming. I love her, but her immaturities are running a little rampant and it's getting on my nerves. Is there a kind way to say that? Probably not to someone without sense.

I was eating lunch today and I realized that other than my Dad and God, I don't have anyone to talk to right now. (I have Lisa, but she isn't really aware of anything going on and she's too busy right now for me.) And then I wonder, why do I have to think... "Does this make me sad?"

Yes, I confirm to myself, it does. But my instinct isn't to run out and beg for attention. On the contrary, when Jeremy chatted me this evening I thought to myself that I should let everyone move on. People touch base with old friends until they're gone and make new ones without thinking about it.

But I'm not really making any new friends. I'm just working. I don't know how I feel about this.

Cakey

Suddenly, I don't know what's going to happen with my job. Am I going to lose it soon? I'm terrified. BUt I actually wanted to write for a different reason.

Post-Oscar curiosity set in and I got 'The Help' on Netflix. Not what I expected but I got the jist of it from youtube clips much better. I don;t watch much if any TV anymore so billboards are pretty much my only was of determining what a movie is about. Anyway, throughout the story, the Maid's are terrified of letting anyone know that they wre the one's who were being interviewed for the book. BUt at the end, the community was so proud they signed a copy. I suddenly had the thought that a person's name is very precious. In the book/movie/play 1776 the head of the congress was the first to sign his name to the declaration of independence. They then joked about how Fat George might hand them all for this, but John Handcocks name was already on it- BIG AND BOLD. His name that he wrote with his hand. It touched me that the people would write in their own names- take ownership of what was in it.

If I ever taught a child's class, I would teach them that concept. That you should never forget to put your name on your paper's because that was something to take ownership of. To be proud of. That everything you ever write your name on, or sign, should be something you can proudly declaire is your own work.

I'm not perfect of course. I only wish I could be proud of or feel like I owned everything I've ever signed. It's a sin to cheat, but I'm sure I've done it. No different than anyone else of course- in one way or another.

When I was in highschool going to early morning seminary (I was barely awake most days) I heard a story about someone's interpretation of heaven. They said they were in a room full of little fileing cabniates like the dewey decimal cards they used to have. And when you pulled one out, there would be acts written on the cards lined up inside. A drawer for people you've introduced to the gosple, a drawer for people you've kissed, A drawer for however many times you lied or stolen in life. And then the interpretation said that Christ came and signed each and every card- his name under the deeds you did. And some of those cards were shameful.

Every since then, I've thought about that. And now I think about it with a little more depth, imagining what a signature means .

But more, what a name means. that it is yours. I learned in my family history class that in The Church, when we do baptisms on behalf of the dead, we absolutely must have the right information. The name and birthdate at least. When you are baptizing a person in the flesh who is alive, it's not required they pronounce it correctly. My father tells me this is because when a person has a body, then there is a direct association with the person receiving the blessings. But with a person who is passed on, when we act in their place, then the name become important. Otherwise we could just baptise Joe Andersen over and over and let that freebie go to whomever would accept it. But we don't do it wily-nilly. Instead we have done great research to make sure no one is forgotten. That all who would accept it can have the ability to.

I know that people like Leonard would think I'm brainwashed. But when I say it like this and string these memories together, it really feels right. I feel at peace when I think about these things. I just don't get this feeling all the time. And if you know me, I'm prone to disbelieving my own feelings. I wouldn't even trust myself to say if I'm hungry or tired or sick or lonely. I doubt myself constantly. But this is something I just don't doubt. There isn't any need to.

Not long ago, however I was driving and the most insane thoughts came to my mind and I was deathly afraid of myself. I wondered who had taken over my brain to put such things into my head and then make me consider them. Dangerous and dark things- things that I know to be insane. As twisted as wondering why I should love my family, or protect my own well being. Why should I eat? Why should I be kind? Do I even know my Father? How can I know anyone? These are secret things, although I won't tell everything I thought. And it all came in a rush to me like an internal tsunami. I got over it though and hed to remind myself what I already knew. For one thing that I existed. I'm sorry, I know to anyone who has never had these thoughts it sounds like I need serious therapy. I might, but not for this. It was just a glitch in the matrix and before It happened, I myself would have thought it was ludicrous. But try not to judge me here, I'm trying to make a point.

That when we try to remind ourselves of who we are, we say our names. If I remain a good person and do my best, I may yet be blessed with the chance to change my last name. But I know I'll always be Casey Jillaine. Casey because it's neither feminine nor masculine- a nothing name, like my mother wanted. And Jillaine- my mother's best and perhaps only female friend. She was bright and pretty, I only met my namesake once, accidentaly in a gas station drugstore. Only a brief moment as I think my mom and she aren't close anymore.

Professor Rush called me "kiddo". My Dad calls me "Casey Jill". My Big brother calls me "Cakey".

And that's what I think about during the last 5 minutes of "The Help".