Green with Envy

This past week, a good friend of the Angry White Loner's got engaged to be married. It is one of those inevitable things, I've been told, to occur after you've been dating someone for a while and you find out that you like each other a whole bunch. More than a whole bunch, actually.

This will be this particular friend's second marriage. The Angry White Loner has other friends who have been married more than once, including a few currently on a third marriage and even one who has been hitched four times.

The Angry White Loner, however, has not even been engaged once, let alone married once.

What's my point in bringing up this little tidbit? Because anything and everything I know about marriage is certainly limited and is from the point-of-view of one who is, to this point, merely an observer. That is acknowledged.

Another tidbit: All of the Angry White Loner's siblings are now married, including his four younger siblings. Years ago, when the first of these younger siblings announced his engagement, the parents approached the Angry White Loner, somewhat as if they were walking on eggshells, and asked: "Are you mad?"

Having been put into this situation for the first time, I was certainly caught off guard by the question. I wasn't aware I was supposed to be anything but happy for my brother—certainly anything but mad. He and his fiancée were very happy together. Fortunately, I could honestly answer that no, I wasn't in the least bit mad. In fact, in the years since then, I would say that my relationship with this sibling has only improved.

Have chick flicks, as well as such plays as Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew, taught us that siblings are supposed to get married in a certain order? Perhaps that is what factored into the parents' view of it all.

In writing this post, I am also reminded of the moment, years ago, when a female friend of mine mentioned that a friend of hers was getting married for the third time and—whether this was in gest or not, I'll never know—uttered:

Why can't I get married just once?!

Another way of saying it might be: When is it my turn?

It's a rhetorical question—I didn't dare attempt an answer—and one with, to be sure, no simple answer(s). I have also found that it is a query that is very present in the minds of many of the mid-singles I associate with on a weekly basis but is not often one that is discussed out loud. In fact, I wished we discussed it more often at our class.

The best answer I have come up with to that $64,000 Question is this: I don't know. I don't know why things work out the way they do. I don't know why, to borrow a couple of musical metaphors, Rod Stewart once sang that "some guys have all the luck," while others "still haven't found what (they're) looking for," going well into their 30s and 40s and beyond—or not at all in this lifetime—without finding someone else with whom to share this mortal journey.

There are a few simple lessons, however, that I have learned—again, stated as an outsider and an observer. Principally: Envy, whomever or whatever it is directed at, is not a healthy emotion to have. It can fester and infect the soul like a foul disease does to the body. It is also not an attractive characteristic in someone anyone would want in a spouse. Neither is moping or being caught up in your singleness.

In addition: You stand a much better chance at meeting new people, ones who want the same thing you do, if you put yourself in situations or places where these people congregate rather than playing hard to get, Osama bin Laden style. Kindness is attractive, as is knowing how to say "please" and "thank you." If I knew what the Young Women values were, I would list them here, because they are all attractive qualities, too.

Along this same line, an encouraging piece of information was shared with me today at church by my home teacher: His 50-something sister just got married for the eighth—eighth!—time. The difference between this marriage and the other seven? It was her first temple marriage. What he conveyed, in a Sunday School lesson about Rebekah and the importance of marriage in the covenant, is that you have a better chance at attaining a temple marriage if you date temple-worthy people, or those who are working to become such. Also, some things are worth waiting and sacrificing for.

Clean Slate

I love the whole Halloween to New Year's stretch of the calendar. It's my favorite time of the year.

Why limit a favorite holiday to just one holiday? Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Festivus—they're all fantastic. I enjoy each and every one when its turn comes around, and I also enjoy the time spent with family members and good friends.

There is a certain sense of letdown upon waking up on January 1, to be sure. The hangover for the last great party (or parties) of the year that was, however you chose to celebrate, is about to begin, and there is also the very real sense that my next "favorite time of the year" won't begin for about another nine months or so. But there is also something about the New Year that brings a sense of "clean slate" with it.

It's almost like that blog post you wrote in a moment of utter loneliness and/or frustration two days ago never even happened!

Admittedly, 2013 was not the greatest year for many people I know, and they are glad to see it go. For me, it was, well . . . good and bad both. It was a year like many other years, in other words.

I am one who makes New Year's resolutions but who also ends up breaking them far more often than I keep them. Even so, I still a fan of the idea of self-improvement and of setting new goals. I have one for 2014 that I began to work on yesterday. I won't go into the details of it right now, but one of my siblings is helping me out, and we're going to try to keep each other accountable for our goals.

Additionally, I believe the concept of a clean slate is a gospel principle. Each Sunday when we take the sacrament, we're recommitting ourselves to follow Christ, to repent and try to improve upon our shortcomings, and to be a better person than we were the week before. It's one of my favorite things about the gospel and my faith. And it's something that's available 52 weeks a year rather than during a three-month span (well, 48 really, if you take away general conference and stake conference).

Another great thing about slates: breaking them over the head of Gilbert Blythe at school!

Unless movies and TV have lied to me.

An Angry White New Year's Eve

There's no fanfare or public relations work to do tonight. I'm not gonna even post a link to this one on Facebook. It may even be deleted by morning if I care enough to take a second look. I'm tired of defending myself against the world anyway and of having to answer all of the smart alecky devil's advocates, many of who should really know better anyway. I don't need to be the one to tell them.

Sometimes, you just need to get it out of your system.

If the Angry White Loner were truly angry and a loner, he might lament the fact that it's New Year's Eve. Again. There are parties to attend, but at this point, they feel only like an obligation. One is a Church dance for single adults of the younger set, from whom the AWL has been cast out as a leper and unclean, while another is for the old set, who have been assimilated by the Borg, and, I daresay, there are very few who have met each other more than once in a year's time. The third option is the marrieds party, which, you might guess, is for the married friends.

The AWL would just be a third wheel. Or fifth wheel. He forgets which one it's supposed to be. But you get the picture.

He also set a new personal "best," if you can call it that, this month, batting .000 in the dating department. That's 0-for-9. He tried to get a date nine times and was told no, thanks, nine times. One of the girls he asked out four times, four weeks in a row, before she finally remembered that she had a boyfriend. Or she made one up. Same effect, either way.

He tells himself to brush himself off and keep trying, but rejection still hurts. If you care even a little bit, it has to. Nothing risked, nothing gained. All of those slammed doors on the mission pale in comparison.

Not that he is bitter. Haha!

Ergo, he's in a room full of people, yet all alone at the same time. It's not from a lack of trying, he reminded himself more than once tonight. That one thought is a small consolation. The only consolation. There is that cute girl who wants to get to know him better on the online dating site, but she lives in Alaska. Nope, nobody in the immediate, 1,000-mile radius tonight.

Nobody cares. They go through the motions of caring, but they don't. None of the ones he cares for and wants to care for him in the same way, at any rate. That's the Catch-22 of it all. They all say they want a sense of humor and kindness and all of that gooey stuff, and end up picking the jerks anyway. Or, they pick no one. 'Cause there's only one Captain Moroni, and it certainly ain't you.

There are men out there on death row, for crying out loud, who have women madly in love with them. Convicted murderers, rapists, kidnappers, spousal abusers, child molesters, etc. Yes, the AWL is aware he has brought up this tidbit before. It never helps nor changes anything. But it still bothers him.

Another thing that bothers him: Angry White Close Relative and he had a conversation today. AWCR brought up the word that has crossed his mind several times before on sleepless nights but that no one has mentioned to him face to face until today: alone. That death knell of words. That's how you're going to end up, it was strongly implied. Maybe it was said right out loud. He doesn't really remember because he was stunned to hear it said out loud at long last. Either way, the message got across.

You had someone who cared about you not long ago, AWCR reminds him. She made you quite happy, didn't she? He can't believe he's doing it, but he cites Jane Austen.

"'Quite happy' is not enough. 'Quite happy' is not the ending I want to write for my story."

One in 500, he calculated not long ago. That's how many out there are still trying. Out of 30,000 people in this county alone, 29,000 seem to have given up. Completely. Either that, or they're hiding under some very large rocks out there somewhere. They fill up their lives with books and movies and Farmville and the badge of busyness and a thousand other things except for the most important thing they could be doing. As far as caring goes, they have declared themselves immune, exempt, and forfeit. He recognizes he feels passive-aggressive about it all, and though it's often been his defense mechanism, it's something he knows needs to work on in 2014. But he still notices it.

This is why people hate the holidays. This is why they get S.A.D. during this time of year.

Well, at least there's 101 Dalmatians on Netflix to keep him company. And that will have to be enough for tonight. Not the animated one; the live action one, with Dr. House and Mr. Weasley as the henchmen.

Yep, that's what the Angry White Loner would write only if he were truly angry and a loner. Which he clearly isn't.

Not in the least.

. . . Wait, the Lakers lost tonight?! And Disney's Robin Hood is on Netflix, too?! This day just got 10,000 percent better.

I Should Be So Lucky

Luck . . .

It seems like it's never on my side. If I drop a piece of buttered toast, and this happens more often than I'd like to admit, it usually lands butter-side down. I also enter my fair share of contests, drawings, and games of chance but never win any.

Until Wednesday, that is. And it happened twice.

On Wednesday afternoon, I checked in for my usual bi-weekly plasma donation appointment, because that's just the kind of giving and chivalrous guy I am, to learn that I had won a random drawing for a $75 Visa gift card to spend on anything I wished.

Wednesday was also, coincidentally, my niece Kylee's 16th birthday, so I used part of the funds on the card to take her out to lunch and to buy her a gift card of her own at the mall. Like I said, giving and chivalrous guy and all that.

Later Wednesday night, some friends and I made our monthly visit to the Nickelmania arcade out in Midvale. I *ahem* used some of the funds from my aforementioned gift card to pay for my entrance fee, as well as a bag full of nickels to spend. Among other classic arcade favorites, I tackled The Simpsons Game as Homer, beating the game alone from start to finish.

Yes, sometimes, the Angry White Loner does things to remind himself about the loner part of his name.

Anyway, I finished off Mr. Burns at about 10:55 p.m., just five minutes prior to closing time at Nickelmania. And I still had a bag of nickels, more than half full, in my possession.

I then moved over to one of the games of chance at said location, one that requires three nickels per turn and which then allows you to push a button to drop a bouncy ball, which lands in one of several open holes and wins you a certain number of tickets. In four minutes' time, I managed to dispense of most of my remaining nickels and won forty or so tickets in the process.

Down to my final two nickels, and needing three nickels to take a final turn, I remembered that I still had an extra nickel in my wallet, and I played one final turn. At 10:59 p.m., just seconds before closing time, the ball bounced into the Monster Jackpot, giving me a whopping 1,260 additional tickets.

My good fortune gave me enough tickets to buy a safe piggy bank gift for my friend Modern-Day Muse, whose birthday also fell on Wednesday. Close to 1,000 other tickets were left over to save for my next visit to Nickelmania. 'Cause there ain't no swag like Nickelmania swag.

All told, I may have used up my decade's-worth quota for good luck in one 24-hour period. If that's the case, then so be it.

I'd rather be lucky than good.

Single All the Way

Single male, single male,
Single all the way!
Oh what fun it is to ride—
Alone!—
In a one-horse open sleigh!
   -Unknown

The Christmas season, in addition to the manger scenes and Santa Claus and the Grinch and all of that good stuff, is certainly also full of love, love, love everywhere, isn't it? From every Hallmark Channel movie to every song about getting hitched by a snowman named Parson Brown or staying indoors while it snows because "it's cold outside," you can't escape it.

Then there's the mistletoe, which contributes to a good deal of snogging and Eskimo kissing and I-don't-know-what-other gooiness between twitterpated folks each and every December. The Angry White Loner has never kissed or been kissed under a mistletoe, but it remains high atop his Bucket List (wink, wink).

For crying out loud, even the once-mean-and-nasty Grinch finds a woman friend in the live-action How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

My point, and I guess I have one, is that the Christmas holiday can be a good deal of fun for people in love but also acute torture for single folks—something akin to either being strapped to a chair and forced to listen to a continuous loop of Rebecca Black's "Friday" or having your chest hairs plucked out with an old pair of pliers.

It's enough to make making out with the family dog, which is something my family's dog is more than willing to do, look like a good alternative to being all alone on Christmas Eve (or at midnight on New Year's, for that matter).

One of my friends, now married, had a good deal of fun his "family" Christmas card when he was still a single man. Usually, this "family" photo consisted of him sitting alone on a bench . . . and that's about it.

I want to be like him when I grow up.

So, my message is: If you've got someone to hold onto as it snows buckets outside during this holiday season, that's fantastic. More power to you! We all want to be where you are. But also: Be kind to your single friends. It's a tough time of year for them. It doesn't get any easier with Valentine's Day approaching in February, either. Don't rub their faces in it.

Also: I have mistletoe socks, and I'm not afraid to use them.
 

Love Poetry for Dummies: "The Fifth-of-July Blues"

"The Fifth-of-July Blues"

The summer is for barbecuing,
And this one's no exception.
Extended friends and family gather,
And all is near perfection.

Soccer game on the lawn out back,
As the boys chase a chicken around;
But the party isn't over yet
As the sun goes down.

The sky lights up brightly
In a wondrous glow;
People in blankets and chairs
Sit back to enjoy the show.

Someone runs out to the circle
And lights up another cone;
Dozens of people surround me,
and yet I am all alone.

I am not a smart man,
But I know this much is true:
The only thing missing from my yesterday
. . . was you.

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.