The Great Chorale Experiment...

As known to those who are familiar with me already, I have three cardinal rules of dating. They are as follows:

1. Don't let her see you without your shirt on.
2. Don't let her see you try to dance.
3. Don't let her hear you try to sing.

The third is the most recent. If you look back at a previous blog, you will see how it developed. There is an unspoken fourth which stipulates, "And especially don't combine any at any time!"

Now, I come out of my shell some and throw caution to the wind as I rent movies on a weekday instead of the weekend...oh, wait...that's not it. No, I will now be breaking my cardinal rule regularly.

I joined Men's Choir on campus. Believe it or not, I actually am doing it. Wish me luck.

For those who think me a turn coat, in my defense the three rules are for dating and do not necessary apply to other circumstances. The only problem is that if all of these girls hear me try to sing, I will ruin my chances. Truth be told, I like to sing. I really enjoy it. The problem is that I sound like a baby being hit with a cat when I do. The method behind my madness is, however, sound (no pun intended). In a choir, as long as we sound good as a whole, my individual performance will not be enough to incriminate me. In fact, it might make girls think that I am better than I am.

Some girl may want to make me prove myself for a private sitting. This is a risk I run. As long as I sing on my terms, I might just come out on top. So, for now, my cardinal rules still apply, but now the last one is altered, it will have a simple line through it, but it will not be stricken from the record.

1. Don't let her see you without your shirt on.
2. Don't let her see you try to dance.
3. Don't let her hear you try to sing.

The Cure for the Common Boredom...

I expect this behavior from men, but what in the world made a girl think she should participate in this?

Note: I don't know how legit the video is.

W-O-M-A-N...

While home for Christmas, I had a cousin get married. I was invited to his wedding and reception. I was more than willing to be there for the reception. I was not receptive, however, to the wedding invitation. Truth be told, I just didn't really feel like it. Also, I didn't have too much time home, and I had things to do. One other reason that was unbeknownst to any others until now is that I am waiting. For some reason, I have yet to be to any sealing done in the temple (unless you count proxy for the dead). Now that I am in my later stages of youth and single life (at least I hope) I kinda figure that I might as well make my very first live sealing ordinance my own. So, I didn't go. There was an underlying tertiary reason for not wanting to go, and that was the conversation that would ensue.

By this I mean the constant barrage of questions regarding the delay of my wedding. People ask as if I have more control over that than I do. Well, I do have a catalogue of mail order Russian brides, but that was a few seasons ago and I'd rather see what 2005 models were available before rushing in.

When asked why I wasn't at the wedding my mom told one cousin, "Well, I think he just didn't want to be asked a million times when he'd get married."

Not too off from the truth. I went to the reception and the first person I spoke to was that cousin that spoke to my mom. She looked at me and said, "Just don't hang around someone long enough to start a conversation, you'll be fine."

"What are you talking about?" She explained to me that my mother had laid the ground work for my uncles to make even more fun of me than they had previously anticipated by telling everybody my excuse.

The groom's father, my uncle Bob, comes up to me and spells out, "W-O-M-A-N! Get it?"

To this I chose the high road and played along instead of ripping off his head and spitting down his neck. "Ya, I got it. 'M-A-N'. Not so hard...what? I missed a letter or two? Same difference, right?" That sort of conversation came up with every relative I have, even ones I though were dead...or just hoped were.

Upon return here I was glad that this was not the kind of campus where that question gets asked too much. Girls are afraid of guys that talk about it. To my astonishment, word must be out that I am now 25+ because now it is expected of me to have an answer to the "when" question among even peers or the much despised preemies.

Yesterday I was speaking with an 18 year-old who asked me that question. He was a friend of mine, so I wasn't upset or anything, but I figured I might as well call a spade a spade.

"Your guess is a good as mine. I won't know until I get a crystal ball. Or maybe a magic 8 ball. Heck, if I had any balls at all I...(pause)...I probably should think this statement through some..."

Jared...I Mean...You!...

I was going to make a comment to a comment, but that became a bit too confusing - especially when I knew that others would want to comment on that. This is regarding a phenomenon my sisters are all symotaniously going through. I call it "YBFLS" which is a less than pronounceable acronym for "Younger Brother For Life Syndrome". First allow me to post 2 comments from my sisters in a previous blog.

"Oddly, sometimes I sttll think of you as that little boy. I even have dreams where you are that age again."
- LaDawn

"I'm with LaDawn. I still think of you that way alot and lately i've found myself calling Hunter by your name."
- Lacey

Wonder who Hunter is? No, not her husband (that would be creepy). It's her 5 year old son (don't quote me on the age). One wonders, "Is it that her son reminds her of me...or do I remind her of her son?" Either way, the name "Jared" is being perpetuated...just not the way I anticipated.

While home for Christmas, I heard my name a ton. At first it was from my nieces and nephews: "JARED! JARED! JARED! Sit by me! Not don't sit by her, sit by me! Oh, want to know what I can do? Look at this! See that? Shhhhh, don't talk to him! It's my turn!"

Then from my good friends: "Hello? Oh, hey Jared...Back huh? Cool. Well, talk to you later...(click)" (read that like Ben Stein)

Then from my dad: "What? You still live here?"

Then lastly from my sisters: "JARED! Stop that and put that down...oh...er...I mean, Christian!" and "JARED! Uh...Connor, stop hitting!"

Uh, hello? Yeah, I'm about 6' tall now. But if you really want to try to discipline me now, go for it!

Whatever young boy is currently in trouble automatically becomes Jared. It just goes to show you what my sisters remember best about me. (If you want to do your homework, ask my sisters about "Hurricane Peach Days".) To them, I am the younger brother for life. The odd thing about YBFLS is that those who have the ailment are not the ones who suffer from it - the younger brother does. I would like to think that I could milk this for all it is worth. You know, play the younger kid who needs help card.

That, I'm sure, would work in a nice functional family. I don't have one of those. My older brother and I do get along now, but when we were kids, all I can remember is him sifting through his pile of legos for 8 hours a day and hitting me on the back for not turning off my light. Oh, and I remember the time he tapped off half of the room so I couldn't go into it. My sister Ladawn was mostly nice to me...when she recognized me. Wendy had enough going on in her life. She didn't include me in it much, and from what I saw, I didn't want in anyway. Lacey was a text book example of agorophobia (among other things). And with a fun family like we had, the "gore" included our own family. She spent most hours in her room reading "Especially for Youth" pamphlets. I got along best with her, but she was often talking to me for sake of a gospel lecture (not to say that I didn't need it).

Things are different. We all still view Lacey as a bit odd. But hey, she's out of the house, and the state. She is living large in Texas. Wendy is a nice and stable mother living in her nice new house. Ladawn not only recognizes me by face, but now she likes to have me over, and will even ask for me on occasion to come over. Kris has a new version of tape that separates us, the Atlantic Ocean. But now, he invites me over (should I be able to afford it) and will give me things from around the globe instead of hits around the back. I think he still plays with legos.

We all have changed. We all acknowledge that. I don't treat them the same and they don't expect it. So what of me? I don't know what my family truly thought of me as a kid. I don't know what they see now - if it is any different at all. What I do know is the gut reaction I observe when one of their little tikes gets out of hand. I think the instinctive reaction of my sisters speaks volumes for itself.

"Jared...I Mean...You!..."

And now your answer...

If you guessed this kid, you guessed right!

Where In The World Is Jared 3...

It's all to easy to find me in this one

Homo...sapiens...

I am now going backwards in my education. When I came to school here in Hawaii, I started right away in my classes pertaining to my major. In other words, I bypassed all of the useles classes they only make you take so they generate more revenue.

Alas, now I am just about done with my real classes, and now I have to take many stupid time-waster classes. One such is Biology 100, which I have this semester. Today we learned all about the wonder world of Taxology, or the organization of classifying living things. The only species we have to memorize the full taxology for is our own, homosapiens. The instructor started with our kindom of "Animalia", and on down to the last two, which is "Homo" and "Sapien" respectively. When explaining what it means to be on type "Sapien" he said, "...and Sapien means that your are intelligent, thinking and most importantly, you enjoy Biology."

I leaned down the the person next to me and said, "I guess that means that I stop at being a 'Homo'...Hmm...There has to be a better way to say that."

Elated...

You like me, you really like me!

I have noticed that Miss Mellie's Blog "Fine Eyes, Indeed..." has added me to her ".Noteworthy Blogs" list! I now have the confidence to do anything...like wear my underwear on the outside...pictures pending...