Angry No More

"I don't wanna be angry no more
You know I could never stand for this."
 -Rob Thomas, "Lonely No More"

It's been a month since the Angry White Loner's last blog post. Did you miss him/me?

Life goes forward in cycles. The coming of the Christmas season is a reminder of this. So it goes for all of us. Including Angry White Loners.

This blog started out, admittedly, as an inside joke that only a few of you were part of. To this day, I still get questions as to what the title Angry White Loner refers to and why I would ever choose such a name for a blog.

I'm clearly none of those three things. Well, two of those three things.

Believe it or not, I wrote a blog post for the folks at LDS Living magazine recently, and they wondered the same thing. They, in fact, suggested I create a new blog with a different name were I to continue to write posts for them. Can you believe that?

Whatever your view(s) on the issue, I believe that this blog has been a very good thing for me, and hopefully it hasn't be torture for the many of you who have read it and have given your (mostly positive) feedback on it.

But it has also outlived its usefulness, I think. It's time. I don't want to be the Angry White Loner anymore.

Doctor Who fans, aka Whovians, of which the AWL has joined the ranks in the past year, know that the good Doctor regenerates from time to time. While he is still the same person inside, he is physically altered, and each regeneration brings out a different side of his personality. Or of the actor who plays him.

Think of this change as that sort or thing: a regeneration. The Angry White Loner will be back; possibly soon, possibly later on. Who can say for sure?

The Angry White Loner has actually been yours truly's third blog. In case you were unaware, you can read past posts/rants at:

http://theepistleofjon.blogspot.com/ (2008-2014)
http://angrywhiteloner.blogspot.com/ (2013-2014)
http://gobblewonker.blogspot.com/ (2014)

In fact, if you have a suggestion of a title for my fourth blog, please post it in the comments section. The suggestion with the most "likes" will become the title of my new blog.

Maybe.

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
 -Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Without any prior warning at all, Elder Christoffel Golden Jr. of the Seventy appeared on the stand at the Island of Misfit Toys today and ended up spending the entire block of meetings with us. It was a very unexpected but nevertheless a pleasant surprise. Accompanied by his wife, Diane, they instructed us over the course of a two-hour block that normally would have been taken up by Sunday School and then elders quorum/Relief Society meetings.

"Don't put this on your blog," Elder Golden instructed more than once. (He actually uttered those words three times, to my count.)

Well, no. I'm not sharing any of the three teachings he specifically instructed us not to share. But I will say that it was an uplifting, spiritual, unique experience that you just don't get every Sunday here in Utah. "Don't give up on yourselves," he taught us. "God will bless you according to your righteous desires." Also, "Once we are cleansed by the blood of Christ, our whole desire is to be merciful toward others."

In spite of what my friends in foreign countries believe—that we regularly get visited by General Authorities here in our meetings in Utah—it just doesn't happen very often at all.

From that spiritual high, I got in my car and drove most of the way up to my brother's house in Layton for bimonthly family dinner. Passing through the final stoplight on the way up there, my car began to poop out, made several loud and unsettling noises, and moved very slowly in exactly the same way it had twice before—something which, I had been told, had been fixed twice before by my auto mechanic.

If I can just make it to my brother's, I thought, I'll be okay.

Then, a few blocks after that, my car stalled and died. Right there on the freeway. A man behind me angrily blared on his horn for me to turn before he realized that I physically couldn't move. At the same time, three good Samaritans got out of their car, right there on the highway, and pushed me to safety. They then walked back across the highway, got into their car, drove over to where I was, and offered me a ride to my destination to make sure I got there okay.

Thank heavens for the kindness of strangers. They could have been the Three Nephites, for all I know. Even so, the spiritual high I had been at just an hour earlier became a depressing, frustrating spiritual low. I felt like pushing the old bucket of bolts over a cliff or taking off the parking brake and letting it roll the rest of the way down the hill.

I finally made it to family dinner, and one of my siblings chided me for being late. Then I told them all the story. They understood.

The Aluminum Falcon's days, I fear, are numbered. The first and only car I have ever owned may soon be headed to the junkyard. I literally don't know what I'm going to do with it tomorrow. As I type this, it sits there on the side of that road, 16 or so miles from where I live.

The best of times, and the worst of times, indeed. Sometimes, they can happen within the same day, or within a very short time of each other. Such is our mortal journey. It's all part of the deal, I had to remind myself tonight.

Who knows? Tomorrow may be just a little bit better.

We Are All Beggars

"Are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?
-Mosiah 4:19

Recently, the Angry White Loner asked if any of you readers out there had questions that he might attempt to answer. In return, he received a number of queries. So many so that he nearly required four fingers to count all of them.

Tonight, he attempts to answer one of your questions for the first time. (It will require nearly four blog posts to get to all of them, as you might have guessed, so please be patient with me.)

Angry White Reader Erik asked:

"Giving to the beggars . . . do it? Don't do it? Does it reinforce their behavior? Is there an alternative? Again, I have my opinion, but I would be interested in your thoughts."

Thanks for your question, Erik. This topic has been on my mind today because of our Gospel Doctrine lesson this afternoon on the Island of Misfit Toys, in which we covered in part the Old Testament book of Amos. Not only is Amos famous for the cookies and also for the oft-quoted (by missionaries) scripture about God not doing anything save he does it through His servants, the prophets (Amos 3:7), but I learned that, at this particular point in time, the people of Israel as a whole were in deep doo-doo for, among other things, not taking care of the poor and needy.

Like you all, I've come across many panhandlers in my travels. I am not wealthy. After all, I studied journalism and English literature in college, and I pretend to be an actor on the weekends. I am of the opinion that those who have been richly blessed (as in, big bucks) are under the obligation to give more where they can.

I do not give money to most panhandlers, but I have given a buck or two to the occasional person. And, as long as I have cash on me, I always stop to buy lemonade or Kool-Aid when kids are selling it on the curbside on hot summer days.

Always.

Once, I met a young man on my way out of Wendy's, asking if I had any change to spare. I honestly didn't (I rarely carry cash these days and make most purchases with a debit or credit card) and told him so, but instead I offered to go back into the restaurant with him and buy him a hamburger. He gladly accepted and seemed genuinely grateful for the gesture.

Earlier that day, in fact, I had landed a new job after looking for one for quite a while. I was feeling particularly blessed, and this young man gave me an opportunity to "pay it forward" to someone.

That's just one example from the AWL's life. So, are people asking for money really in need, or are they conning us?

My answer is: Yes. To both.

Panhandlers fall into both categories. Some are genuinely in need, while others are not. Only God knows the heart and soul and is qualified to judge which is which, in my humble opinion.

I have a testimony of the blessings and the benefits of paying tithing, of giving fast offerings or to the Perpetual Education Fund, etc., to the Church. On countless occasions, I have witnessed the Church use these funds, infinitely more wisely than I ever could endeavor to do, to save, to lift, and to heal people of any and all faiths. To help all of Heavenly Father's children.

Angry White Dad worked for the Church for many years, during which time I got to volunteer and/or tour various canneries, bishop's storehouses, farms, and so on, and I saw it all in action. On a trip to the east coast that the two of us took together when I was 18, just prior to leaving on my mission, we got to see the Richmond, Virginia; Washington, D.C.; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; and Boston, Massachusetts storehouses in action. It's the real deal, folks; it's not just here in Utah. Later on, when the PEF was created in the early 2000s, AWD got to work with that program, too. We got to see even more lives being blessed with a newfound opportunity to obtain an education.

Above all, I love that the Church teaches us to be self-reliant. It's the old adage of "teaching a man to fish" rather than giving him a fish, so that we can help ourselves and then, in turn, help others who cannot do so due to chronic illness, injuries, death of a spouse, loss of employment, natural disasters, and so forth. Because I have faith in the Church, I have faith that my contributions are being put to the best possible use.

Of course, the LDS Church does a great deal, but it does not have a monopoly on helping the poor and needy. More than one Angry White Brother performed an Eagle Scout project collecting clothing and other items for the St. Vincent de Paul Catholic charity in Salt Lake City, a rock star of an organization if there ever was one. In addition, Angry White Mom (prior to her recent accident, anyway) volunteers at the local food bank run in the back parking lot of a Bountiful Protestant church, giving service and helping customers feed their families. Yours truly had the chance to volunteer time there a few times in my previous ward. If you live in Davis County, I highly recommend paying them a visit or giving them a call to see what you can do. Odds are, they need you.

Many people may view charity as "a coat you wear twice a year," helping out at a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. While this is a worthy and an important cause, I believe charity is really more of a way of life than a check mark that you make on a list as a task to be completed. It is both in giving the bare necessities like money, food, and clothing but also in the small things, such as giving friendship, a listening ear, love, time, and genuine concern for those around us.

That little stream that said "give"? As in, the Primary song? That's what I mean.

And that is something we can all afford to do.

Dog Daze

Thanks to all of you—all one of you—who responded to the Angry White Loner's latest post. He didn't receive any questions to base any future blog posts upon, so he supposes at this point that he'll just have to continue to come up with his own dithering ramblings about life, the universe, and everything for the time being.

The AWL has taken the past couple of weeks off from blogging—not because of the aforementioned fact of not getting any responses, but because he's needed some time to think. About a lot of things. It's been his longest gap between new posts since he began this blog a year-and-a-half ago.

It's the dog days of summer right now. I do not know if there is a specific timeframe to them. Personally, I consider it to fall somewhere between the end of Pioneer Day in July and Labor Day in early September. In other words, it's basically the entire month of August.

No offense intended to those of you who get excited for August, for whatever reason. But I just can't. It's my least favorite month of the year. The only good thing about it for me is that autumn is right around the corner.

I was all ready to post something new earlier this week, and then Robin Williams's suicide happened. I read the news online Monday evening, and I was crushed. Like many of you, I spent several days reading various blog posts and retrospectives about the life of one of the most unique talents we've ever seen.

I'll spare you my going into much more detail on the matter, because others have already done so and have done it well. If it affected you or caused you to think in any way, shape, or form, then I say: Congratulations. That means you're a member of the human race, and you give a darn. Whether or not you personally or someone close to you struggles with depression, substance abuse, or Parkinson's disease, then at least there is something of a desire inside you to want to understand and to help others who fight those battles.

It's one of the most important lessons we can learn here in this human experience.

Depression is not something that you just "get over," like a cold or measles or having your tonsils removed. It is something many people have to battle on a daily basis, and it can, at times, feel like a dark, bleak, and hopeless fight.

Nevertheless, there is hope, and there is healing. I had to learn this the hard way, but I'm glad that I know now that such a thing exists. I feel like I've said this before here on the Angry White Loner, but if you're dealing with depression and need someone to talk to or someone who will lend a listening ear, please count me in as one of those who will drop whatever he's doing to help. However I can.

Carpe diem, my friends.

Blah Blah Blah

Sometimes, you just sit there, staring at the blinking cursor. This goes on for a few seconds. Then, it has been a few minutes. Soon, minutes upon minutes have passed, and, before long, it's been an hour. By this point, the cursor is not only just sitting there, but it's also flat-out mocking you, you silly knucklehead who can't even put a few lousy words together.

Type something, for the love of bananas! it screams at you. Even Stephnie Meyer made a career out of this, writing about shirtless werewolves and sparkly vampires and teen angst and mustache dads and a crucial subplot involving the loch ness monster working as a welder by day while dreaming of being a dancer at night. Probably.

Writer's block. It happens to the best of us. It also happens to me.

The Angry White Loner does not only blog for "fun," because that's what this is (right?), but he actually also does a good deal of writing for his job. Yes, believe it or not, folks, I'm a professional.

Some people make a career out of using a lot of really swanky, cool-sounding words but, at the same time, don't actually "say" anything at all. They just babble, blather, bluster, cackle, cajole, chinwag, converse, discuss, double-talk, flibbertigibbet, gab, jaw, natter, parley, pontificate, quip, schmooze, whine, yak, yammer, and yap, over and over again. Some of them, in fact, even become *ahem* president of the United States.

It's almost like they have nothing better to do than to Google synonyms of the word talk.

Maybe I should have gone into politics. I wouldn't be the first Angry White Loner to do so, and I certainly wouldn't be the last.

Angry White Anniversary

As of today, the Angry White Loner is a year old.

Angry White Loner the blog, that is. Not the AWL himself.

Beginning with this unforgettable first post on February 18, 2013, the Angry White Loner began to blog and to change everyone's lives for the better, one groundbreaking post at a time. The rest, as they say, has been history.

Feel free to party along with me out there in cyberspace. Or whatever you do to celebrate an anniversary of a blog. Your guess is as good as mine.

We'll play some Twister, we'll do some breakdancing. You know, the stuff that you do to party.

You are even welcome to bring me a plate of brownies. You may think I'm kidding when I write stuff like that, but I'm really not. At least, a devoted reader picked up on this and actually brought me a plate of brownies a couple of weeks back. Thanks again, devoted reader.

What will the next year bring for the Angry White Loner? And for angry loners in general?

Stay tuned.

Forgiveness and Stuff

Singles' Awareness Day came and went, like it does each year, yesterday. You may have heard of this so-called "holiday" at one point or another.

Rather than sitting alone in the darkness at home, eating only the chocolate part right out of multiple boxes of Neapolitan ice cream and sobbing uncontrollably while watching Moulin Rouge! for the 27th time, however, I decided to take a different approach to Valentine's Day this year. I didn't plan on it when the day dawned, but my friend Tyler's Facebook status inspired me to look at things with a new point-of-view as I faced the day.

He posted the following:

"This Valentine's day, instead of celebrating romantic love, I'm going to celebrate forgiveness love. My heart has reached critical mass with bitterness and resentment for all those who have wronged me, all the girls who left me to 'find' themselves or weren't entertained enough or who wouldn't give me the time of day, all the guys who ditched me for their other friends or girlfriends or lied to me, and the family members who weren't there when I needed them. This day I will let forgiveness cleanse my heart so that I may start anew and love without the weeds of the past stifling the flowers of the future. Happy Valentine's Day!"

I have such respect for this unflinchingly honest statement. It recognizes that bad things happen but that they don't need to hold us back or to affect how we interact with others in the future. It encompasses so many worthy, rather than wasteful and unproductive, uses of my time that I don't know where to start. The Angry White Loner couldn't have said it better himself.

I've been where he has been, even recently, but I want to be where forgiveness, time, and experience will and can lead me. Just as I need forgiveness for the many things I do wrong, I, of course, need to forgive others.

It's truly an amazing concept. It's almost like I read it in the scriptures once somewhere.

This also doesn't mean that the AWL won't still be bewildered by some of the things the opposite sex does or doesn't do. (And he's sure that the feeling is mutual.) He will still post about these things from time to time, but it will be done in an effort to decompress and to understand what makes them tick. If family members or friends have input or insights that will help him understand things better going forward, they are certainly welcome to give them.

So, Happy (Belated) Valentine's Day, you wonderful old Building and Loan! Happy Valentine's Day, you twitterpated couples who get all gooey and post photos of flowers delivered and of yourselves hugging and squeezing each other and do more than your share of giving the rest of us diabetes! Perhaps most of all, Happy Valentine's Day, future significant other(s)!

Angry White Sandwich

Apparently, Burger King now carries a sandwich called an "Angry Whopper" on its menu. As you might have guessed upon reading that little tidbit, it has been calling the Angry White Loner's name.

Birds of a feather and all that stuff.

No, Burger King isn't compensating me to say any of this. When I was 18 years old and worked at BK for a year, they didn't really compensate me then, either. Not that I am bitter. Or angry.

Suffice me to say that if you, like President Obama, think that the minimum wage is too low now, it was even worse Back in My Day.

Anyway, for dinner tonight, the Angry White Loner tried out an Angry Whopper, which is much like a regular Whopper, except that it hides out in the basement all day and sulks and listens to Evanescence and writes numerous blog posts about how women just don't "get" it.

In addition to the usual hamburger toppings like ketchup, pickles, lettuce, and tomatoes, it also contains such "angry" food elements as bacon, pepper jack cheese, chipotle peppers, and a very hot "secret" sauce that may be made up of battery acid, lighter fluid, or the blood of the alien in the Alien/Sigourney Weaver film franchise. Or all of the above. Who knows for sure?

On a scale of one to 10, the Angry Whopper has a spiciness level of about 45. It's far too spicy for my tastes.

Just about the right amount of angry, though.

When Darkness Falls

"And in these days
When darkness falls early
And people rush home
To the ones they love
You better take a fool's advice
And take care of your own
One day they're here;
Next day they're gone."
 -Don Henley, "New York Minute"

A friend of mine started her own blog this week. I'm certainly interested in following friends' blogs, especially those who follow mine. I read through the first post and, in doing so, I learned a lot more about this friend that, unfortunately, I did not know before.

Among the facts I picked up were that, like me, she lives with depression. Unlike me, she attempted to take her own life not that long ago.

What would ever make a person want to do such thing? I used to wonder—a number of years ago. I'm sure it's a thought many of you may have asked yourselves at one time or another. If you've never been chemically depressed yourself, it's certainly an understandable query.

That was before my own battle began. And when I learned exactly what depression could do to me or to anyone else, I learned several hard, painful lessons, some of which took me years to learn. Others, I am still in the process of learning.

It certainly affected a good friend of mine, who not only suffered with depression but also with issues of anger and I-don't-know-what else. The thing is, he suffered in silence, never opening up nor uttering a word about his struggles. At least, not to me, he didn't. One summer day, the last time I saw him, he and I went to see a blockbuster movie together (the title of which is not important, but it rhymes with Revenge of the Sith). A few short weeks later, he was featured in the top story on that night's newscast.

He had shown up at his ex-wife's house and, when she opened the door, he shot her at point-blank range, killing her instantly.

Depression also, sadly, runs in the family of a handful of other friends of mine—all brothers in the same clan. One spring day, our circle of friends was informed that one of these boys had taken his own life. A mere three years later, his brother, likewise, committed suicide, as well.

I attended two separate funerals for this family over a three-year span. Both for the same reason.

So, what have these experiences taught you? you ask?

Many things, to be sure. I don't have all nor even most of the answers, but I have learned that everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle of one sort or another. Many, like my three aforementioned friends, suffer in silence or perhaps feel there is no one around who will understand what demons they are battling. What I do know is that kindness is always a good choice. I don't always choose that route, but when I do, it is always a good option.

Perhaps it's something I need to talk or blog about more. If there are any friends or acquaintances reading this who are depressed or have been depressed at one time or another, please count me among those whom you can talk to about it. If my own struggle has taught me anything, it's that help and healing are available, and though times may be dark, there is always a way to see things through. If I can help out anyone in any small (or big) way, then all of the difficult things I've been through won't have been suffered in vain and I will have learned the lesson(s) I was supposed to learn. If it's not me, then talk to someone about it—a parent, friend, bishop, or someone else in your circle of trust.

To those who don't know what it feels like to be depressed, just know that it is not imagined and is very real, and it happens to people you know—to family members, neighbors, friends, people in your ward, co-workers, etc. If you don't understand it, then at least err on the side of caution and believe people when they tell you or show that they are having a hard time.

Doctrine and Covenants 45:31 reads: "And there shall be men standing in that generation, that shall not pass until they shall see an overflowing scourge; for a desolating sickness shall cover the land."

I do not know what this scripture means, per se, and I have not heard any General Authority speak directly on it. It may refer to the spread of some sort of illness or to indifference, pride, anger, any number of addictions—even to some kind of plague yet to come. But when I read it, it reminds me directly of depression. It certainly is a scourge and a sickness to the millions who live with it.

Right now, when the days are very short in length, is a particularly vulnerable time for people who are depressed and/or dealing with S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). From personal experience, I know that that is also a very real thing. It can truly make some people feel as dark, despondent, and gloomy inside as the sky is outside.

They're having a tough time right now. Love them anyway.

And Now, a Word from Our Sponsor . . .

And now, a word from our sponsor . . .

Me.

The Angry White Loner has received more feedback on this blog over the past month than he has in all of the previous 10 months combined. Most of it has been positive, while some it has not. Getting negative feedback, though, is not necessarily a bad thing. Through it all, he has learned who has really had his best interests at heart and who has been willing to offer constructive, rather than destructive, criticism. After all, true friends tell you what you need to hear rather than what you want to hear.

At times, I have even considered whether it is really worth it to continue this blog. Or to express my opinions in a public forum at all. Every time I have done so lately, it seemed like three or four people were right there to burn me at the stake about one little thing or another.

One thought, however, prevails: Having an opinion is a good thing.

Certainly not if that opinion is contentious, hateful, overbearing, or rude, of course. One can express opinions and can disagree politely while still being respectful and tolerant of opposing viewpoints.

People who don't really have any opinions, well, are much like the sheep in George Orwell's Animal Farm, sitting around and waiting for someone to tell them what to think and/or for a bandwagon to jump on, because, hey, it's hip and trendy, and everyone else is doing it, and there's a catchy jingle involved. Before long, they're chanting, "Yes we can! Yes we can!" And we all know what a complete disaster became of that.

Sorry. I meant, of course, "Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad!"

I just finished reading David McCullough's excellent book 1776, and I was reminded, once again, that some of the best blood that has ever been spilt in this land came from George Washington and his Continental Army. They achieved something truly miraculous, while being outmanned and outgunned, in besting the British during the Revolutionary War. Thanks to them, we have a free land and a Constitution, which includes the First Amendment, granting us all the right to the freedom of speech, among other rights.

One of my favorite classes in college was all about the freedom of the press as it is found in the First Amendment. To this day, it remains among the best education I have ever received.

For now, I'm going to keep on writing and making observations. I will not be perfect in this process. I certainly am not anywhere near smart enough to be right all of the time. I can write only from my point-of-view and not another's. If anything I post leads to a discussion, well, that is most likely a good thing. I will also try to do so "with Malice toward none, with charity for all," as Abraham Lincoln said so wisely in his second inaugural address in 1865. I will also try to focus on lighter topics more frequently.

If a friend has constructive criticism for me, I will listen to it. If that criticism is destructive, well . . . that person was probably not a good friend to begin with. If a friend chooses that this blog is not worth his/her time, well, that is an option, of course, and is perfectly fine, as well.

I will accept compliments, too. And plates of brownies.

Shuffling Off the Mortal Coil

For those who have followed my blogging through my older blog, Disconcertingly Choppy - and, let's face it, that may be as many as a dozen people - as well as those who know my family and extended family personally, then you may remember that my nine-year-old niece McKenna got a hamster, which she named Hammy, for Christmas. She was very excited about getting Hammy as a pet and has taken good care of him in the four months since that time. Around the house, it was not unusual to see Hammy rolling around in his hamster ball or just being held and cared for in McKenna's hands.

Well, a couple of days ago, Hammy left us. Someone, and I won't say whom, squeezed Hammy a little too tightly, and in an instant he became Peruvian food. (I've tried hamster twice - both times in Peru, in those "when in Rome" situations - and, incidentally, and it tastes like chicken. I don't recommend it.) McKenna, surprisingly, wasn't upset at the person who did this (accidentally, I might add), but was she was rather grief stricken by it and was somewhat inconsolable throughout the day.

Rather than have the traditional family home evening that night, we instead held a graveside service for Hammy, who was laid to rest in the backyard. McKenna talked about what a great pet Hammy had been, and we all bowed our heads in a moment of silence. As you may recall, this was on the same day as the explosions at the Boston marathon, and feelings were tender all around.

A wise person once said something along the lines of: "Death is an important tool. It teaches us to tell each other that we love each other."

I'm paraphrasing here, but I appreciate the sentiment. When tragedy strikes, and it will affect us all to one degree or another, it's often the only thing we can do. I believe it applies to all instances when we're affected by death - be it terrorism that takes human lives untimely, or unintentionally enthusiastic hugs, or everything else between and beyond.

And so, my friends, let me take advantage of this opportunity to tell you that I love you, collectively and individually. I realize that a blog is not the ideal means for doing this, so take it for whatever you may think it's worth. I'm not great at expressing it vocally, as my "love language" tends to be either spending quality time or performing acts of service, but please know that I am truly grateful for the relationships I feel the Lord has blessed me with in my life, be they family, friends, co-workers, or even acquaintances who may yet become lifelong friends.

Hammy would want it that way.

The Angry White Loner

Am I an angry person? Most people who know me well would say no. I don't really think that I am angry by nature, but like you, certain things do make me angry from time to time. One of my college professors once remarked that my blend of wry, dry humor tends to reflect a bit of aggression, and I don't know if he was completely wrong about that.

As for the "loner" thing, well, that may not be so much of a stretch. We males tend to compartmentalize ourselves according to social situation, and while I can be extroverted on the improv stage and with those who know me best, I can also be my introverted self at church, at work, at the store, etc.

As I wrapped up 2012's picture-a-day/Project 366 endeavor at the end of December, I came to realize that perhaps there are at least also two selves on my blog: the one who posts photos, family news, and basic observations about events I attend throughout the year - cotton candy, if you will. The other side of me - call it the writer - has, for as long as I can remember, perhaps as far back as when I was given my first journal at age nine, needed a creative outlet for my thoughts and feelings in addition to said journal.

With two, sometimes three people logging in to view my posts, the demand was indeed high to create a second blog for this second side of me. Thus, from henceforth, Disconcertingly Choppy will be devoted to those "cotton candy" happenings, while the AWL will be focused on what I hope will be thought-provoking reflections and issues that we face in a latter-day world that seems to get nuttier by the day. In essence, it will be a lot like the column I used to write for The Century magazine when I was in college.

Sometimes, I will focus on gospel themes, while other times I will write on social or political matters that I feel are important. I would appreciate and would also encourage any feedback that you, my friends and readers, would like to give me.

The title "Angry White Loner," by the way, actually sprang from a recent improv show in which we played the game "Press Conference." In the game, we are supposed to portray members of the local media, and, on the spot, I came up with a blogger called "The Angry White Loner" and a blog address of the same name. When I registered for this blog on blogspot.com, I was surprised to find that nobody had claimed it.

Can you believe that? So, there you go.