SCOTUS Gay Marriage Ruling: We Missed The Real Issue

Hooray, gay marriage! That's what I've been seeing all over social media today. And no, I'm not upset about the Supreme Court ruling. I believe sexual orientation develops similarly to handedness (being right or left handed) with some combination of genetics and environment and is largely unchangeable. It's not the ruling that is wrong; it's the fact that this issue even had to come up in the first place.

Where in the Constitution is the government given any authority over personal relationships and marriages? Hint: The answer is nowhere. Therefore, the government's issuing of marriage licenses to anyone, opposite or same sex, is unconstitutional.

Gay Americans want the same legal perks that heterosexual Americans have in marriage: tax advantages, homeownership, hospital visitation rights, end of life decisions, etc. But why are these rights tied to marriage in the first place? There should be neither legal perks nor disadvantages to being partnered and/or married; all of the legal advantages currently given to married couples should be available to everyone. Both single and partnered individuals should be able to identify an emergency contact to make critical healthcare decisions in case of incapacitation. Any competent individual(s) should be allowed to adopt a child. Why is being legally married necessary for any of these scenarios?

Let's leave the defining of personal relationships and marriage to religious institutions and individuals and their family and friends. It is unconstitutional to give legal perks to heterosexual couples that homosexual couples cannot enjoy. It is also unconstitutional to demand that a clergy member officiate the wedding of two men or two women or that a caterer serve at a gay wedding.

In summary, get the government out of personal relationships, whether heterosexual or homosexual. It has no constitutional right to be there.

Tips for Picking A Baby Name

With so many names from which to choose, naming a baby can be overwhelming. Fortunately, these tips will assist you in choosing a name that is just as original as your little bundle of joy.

Image via http://cliparts.co/cliparts/6cy/XRE/6cyXREMEi.png

1. Avoid choosing a name that was in the top 100 last year. Remember, you want your child to be original.

2. Check the top names list from 1900 and steer clear of any name that was in the top 500, or even top 1000 to be safe. You're having a modern baby, after all!

3. Check the spelling you are considering. If it's the most popular spelling for the selected name, your child may struggle with individuality later in life. Even the second most common spelling might put your child at risk. Choose a creative spelling to help ensure a high self confidence for your child throughout his or her life.

4. Consider inventing your own name! Look around you; what do you see? Maybe a couch, table, some bowls? Use your surroundings as inspiration. Any of these could be amazingly creative names for your newborn.

5. Choose a name that is more common for the opposite gender than for your child's. If you are having a boy, ideal names include ones that were given at a rate of at least 90% to girls as of the most recent statistics available. However, do not choose a name for your son that is listed as being given 100% to girls last year; you don't want your child to be bullied later on!

6. Take a fairly common name and individualize it by changing the first consonant sound. Many parents are choosing names that rhyme with "Aiden" lately, such as Brayden, Hayden, Kayden, Jayden, Layden, or Zayden. However, to be most original, insert a less common consonant sound at the beginning, such as Dayden or Yayden. This formula can be used to individualize a variety of fairly common names, such as changing Sophia to Tophia or Nathan to Mathan.

With these tips in hand, you are sure to pick an amazing name for your baby! Just always remember to come to open house at the beginning of each school year to instruct your child's teacher on how to pronounce your child's name.

Spirals

I took this photo on May 28, 2012. Today is May 28, 2015. How did this photo happen to come to mind today? Facebook. Freakin Facebook. Normally I like to see what "On This Day" has pulled up for me, but not today. Not this photo.

I took this photo on my way to my summer job at a camp in Colorado. What a summer. It was a good experience with its ups and downs but ended sourly. Anger. That's what this photo reminds me of. That job is no more.

You can see my car in the photo. My 1999 Camry. The one that I rolled and totaled about 18 1/2 months after this photo. Terror. That's what this photo reminds me of. That car is no more.

That morning I said goodbye to my dogs Mali and Scout not positive I would ever see Mali again. She was already sick by then, although doing fairly well. She did make it through the summer but died the following spring just after her 13th birthday. Sadness. That's what this photo reminds me of. Mali is no more.

I took this shot because the scenery was breathtaking. That scenery is breathtaking. Who would have thought that seeing this photo three years to the day it was taken would make me feel anything but awe? But that's not how it makes me feel.

Red Sand and Mud

I wrote this for my AP English Language and Composition class in 11th grade. I believe the assignment was related to a poem we read in class but I don't remember the details.

Red Sand and Mud

I’m from Velcro shoes and monkey bars

From riding bikes in the street until dark

I’m from two percent milk and pretzel sticks

From sunscreen and bright colored socks

I’m from Mavis Beacon and Putt Putt Moon

And from tennis at Highpoint with Dad

I’m from the mulberry tree and the hiking area

From the red sand and the mud

I’m from play dates and swimming lessons

From the parks with their appointed names

I’m from Lunch Bunch and Campfire

And reading in the den with Mom

I’m from family Shabbat dinners and religious school

From the ’87 Camry and the bomb

I’m from library cards and state quarter collections

From snow boots outgrown before being worn

I’m from moments long gone

And memories that are distant

I’m from a simpler life that is behind me
From times I can just remember

News Flash: Your Workout Program is Not Better Than Theirs

Since the middle of January, I have been going to CrossFit four times a week as my main exercise. I'm having a lot of fun with it and getting stronger each week, but despite my excitement, I have been hesitant to tell lots of people about it. Why? To explain, let me tell you about some imaginary people's workout routines:

Alice goes to an hour-long yoga class every day before work (5 mornings per week). On the weekends she enjoys spending time with her kids playing in the backyard and going for family bike rides.

Nick plays on a competitive soccer team in the city league. His team practices four evenings a week and has at least one game most weekends.

Christina is a busy full-time mom who spends the first part of every morning getting her older kids off to school. Several days a week during her toddler's nap time, she puts him in the stroller and goes for a two-mile walk.

Joseph is into powerlifting and has won several local competitions. He trains five days a week with other serious lifters perfecting his form and increasing his lifts.

Mark goes to the gym three days a week and spends thirty minutes on an elliptical machine followed by thirty minutes of weight lifting on strength training machines.

Lynn runs fifty miles per week, including a long 15-20 mile run on Saturdays.

So the question is, who has the best workout routine? And the answer is... it depends on the person! Is her workout program helping her keep her objective health numbers in check, such as blood pressure, cholesterol, bone density, and body fat percentage? Does he enjoy his workout routine rather than viewing it as an unfortunate chore? If the individual can answer yes to these questions then it's a GOOD program! Everyone has different starting points, from morbid obesity to already quite fit, different goals, from winning national tournaments to reducing or maintaining body fat percentage, and everyone has different amounts of time to devote to their program.

So yes, I do CrossFit. Does that make me better than any other exerciser out there? No. Do I enjoy doing CrossFit? Yes. Is CrossFit the right program for everyone? No.

Let's worry about our own workout programs and stop demeaning others who have chosen different routes to staying fit and healthy than we have. Calling CrossFitters "crazy", serious lifters "meatheads", people who primarily do cardiovascular exercises "cardio bunnies", etc., has no place in the fitness community.

The Year Was 9597

I was looking through old school files I have still saved on my computer when I came across this story I wrote as a 9th grader. Reading this for the first time in years, I am both shocked by the way my 15-year-old self saw the world and entertained by the creativity and ridiculousness of the story.

            The year was 9597 on the evening of July the 4^th. Stupidity filled the air in George’s town of Hofenlofel. The air was quiet and full of helium. George was sitting in his living quarter in his bubble. His mother was preparing tenth-meal in the kitchen.

            “Excuse me, Mother. I don’t mean to be a bother, but I was wondering if it would be possible for you to tell me what we shall be having for tenth-meal?”

            “How dare you speak to your mother so rudely? We are having chocolate enchiladas. Also, I made a special celery sauce to spice it up. Mind your manners, stupid!” Without another word, Mrs. Shizzle walked out of the kitchen.

            Without moving a tentacle, George closed his eyeballs. He then proceeded to bend down so that all ten knuckles were touching the ground, and crawled to the prayer rug. He was, of course, a devout Bushan.

            “George, my lord,” he prayed to the god. His mother named him George in honor of George Bush, a martyr who lived hundreds of years previously and had died nobly to save his country, and for that he was eternally worshipped.

            “George, forgive me for my extreme rudeness to my mother!” Young George prayed.

            “You have been forgiveded!” A strong voice boomed.

            Young George slowly stood up. People lived fairly short lives in Hofenlofel and the surrounding towns, and at the age of twelve George was getting quite old.

            He was starting to prepare for the day when he would have a son. In Hofenlofel, you see, when a boy turned thirteen, he would find a bubble floating in the air and touch it. A baby boy would then begin to grow on his back. Three days later, the bubble on the boy’s back would burst and break his spine, quickly ending his life.

            This was what had happened to George’s father just twelve years before. At the age of seventeen, Mrs. Shizzle, like all Hofenlofalen females, had found the bubble of Frank Shizzle, George’s father. The bubble grew on the side of her body, and after just a few weeks it disconnected from Mrs. Shizzle and Palieta had been born. All Hofenlofalen women gave birth to female babies, and all the men gave birth to baby boys. Every person had only one bubble, with a few cases of people carrying two. The tragic part of the Hofenlofalen way of reproduction was that a couple always had their girl before their boy, and the boys never knew their fathers. Girls at least knew their fathers for a few years before they died giving birth to the boy.

            “Dinner, stupid!” Mrs. Shizzle loved her son greatly.

            “Mother, can you tell me more about my dad? Why must all the fathers die in our world?”           

            “It is the way of our culture. After about thirteen, boys carry a huge risk of becoming men.”

            “A man? What’s that?” George was very curious.

            “It is a species that lived several thousand years ago. You see, males used to live very long lives, almost as long as females, and-“

            “Really?”

            “Yes, George. Have I really failed to tell you this before, stupid?”

            “I suppose you have, Mother.”

            “Well then. As I was saying, years and years ago, males lived very differently. They never had babies; only women did. The baby grew in the woman’s belly, not her side or back.

            “Over the years, we evolved from these dumb humans into the far more intelligent dibderions we are today. Since this species called men were deemed so useless, they eventually began to die off at younger ages, until they died at thirteen like they do now.” Mrs. Shizzle smiled at her young son, waiting for his response.

            “Well I’m sure glad I don’t live in that stupid world,” commented George.

            George and Mrs. Shizzle decided to go for a stroll before tenth-meal. Mrs. Shizzle called Palieta to join them in the shuttle, but she didn’t want to go.

“We’re going to travel back in time to the time that males lived long lives like I was telling you,” said Mrs. Shizzle.

“Sounds super!” George was very excited.

A couple hours later, George and Mrs. Shizzle arrived on planet Earth. The year was all the way back in 2007. George and Mrs. Shizzle landed the shuttle on a large green space.

“This is called a field, stupid,” Mrs. Shizzle told her son.

“What are these peculiar green strands?” Asked George, picking small strands of a strange green, damp substance.

“I believe they are called grapes, but let me check the history book I brought along,” responded Mrs. Shizzle. A few moments later she returned to the spot where George was sitting on the grapes.

“I believe they actually call these strands grasses. It says you can just say grass, though. Let’s go explore, stupid!”

“Right behind you, Mother!” Called George.

Mrs. Shizzle led her son to a strange structure that, oddly enough, was not floating off the ground. There were some strange symbols on the structure. Mrs. Shizzle referred to her history book she had brought along.

            “I believe this symbol is called two. And the other symbols that look like circles are called zeros, but it says here that in this time period these humans call them O’s as well.”

            “Look at that strange creature!” shouted George, “He’s fat!”

            “Let me look at my book, stupid. One moment!” Mrs. Shizzle paused for a minute to consult her history book.

            “It says here that humans were often very fat because they ate too much of a certain substance called fat. Good thing we completely eliminated that from our diets two hundred years ago.” The mother and son proceeded to the middle of what they would soon realize was a prehistoric school.

            “Sit here, stupid,” Mrs. Shizzle affectionately directed her son, “Look right there!” She pointed with her left tentacle at a young creature wearing a sack on his rear side.

            “That’s a man!” cried Mrs. Shizzle, “Look, George! That one is probably about sixteen. As you know, I’ve done a lot of research on these strange creatures. Look at him, kicking that nice young girl.”

            “I think they are just playing,” commented George.

            “No, son. The human male was a violent creature as you can see here. They tend to turn things upside down, and they fight eachother, and they even enjoy picking on females. It’s horrible! That’s why we don’t have adult males in Hofenlofel, George.”

            George and his mother proceeded to ascend a strange set of levels that were each only as big as the end of their leg tentacles. The sequence made them go up higher! They were amazed at this strange structure. After referring to her history book, Mrs. Shizzle told George that she believed the structure was called a flight of airplanes.

            “A flight of airplanes? Don’t you mean a flight of stairs, Mother?” questioned George.

            “Why, yes! You must be paying close attention to your studies, stupid. I’m so proud of you!”

            There was a strange looking creature coming down the stairs, seemingly growling at a young male who was innocently kissing a young female. The old man was round and old, seemingly about sixty-five years of age. His white hair covered his whole head, and he glared in the Shizzles’ direction.

            “Run!” cried Mrs. Shizzle, “We’ve been caught!” 

            “Stop, by order of the headmaster!” called the fat man. The Shizzles just kept running.

            “Headmaster calling for backup,” cried the fat man into his communication device. Another man came hobbling along the path, holding the other device that the fat man was talking into. He had a horrible limp in his legs, and growled when he spoke.

            “There were some aliens here just a moment ago. We have to act quickly!” the Shizzles heard the fat man say to the man with the limp. George and his mom were watching the stupid old men from a safe distance by the grapes, or grass as they thought it must be called.

            The fat man, wearing a strange sort of clothing object Mrs. Shizzle reasoned must be some form of pants and a shirt, began to run in the opposite direction of where the Shizzles were hiding. His fat bounced around in his shirt, and George couldn’t help but to giggle. Unfortunately the attackers heard him.

            “Who goes there?” called the fat man, spinning all the way around to look right where the Shizzles had just been hiding. Losing his delicate balance, he then proceeded to fall to the ground, belly jiggling all over. His shirt became un-tucked in his clumsiness, and a hairy, fat stomach gurgled out all over the concrete. George closed his eyes in absolute disgust.

            “Quiet, stupid,” whispered Mrs. Shizzle to her son, “ He seems to be half deaf, so I think we’re alright, but let’s be cautious.”

            The limping man caught up to the fat one just as the fat was trickling out the fat man’s shirt. The limping man was also large and wore what Mrs. Shizzle referred to as athletic pants that he pulled up almost to his womanly chest.

            “Get up!” yelled the man with the large chest.

            “Those are commonly referred to as man boobs in this time period,” whispered Mrs. Shizzle, pointing to the man’s chest where fatty tissue jiggled as he attempted to run.

            After several minutes, both men managed to stand up and began to look around, searching for the “aliens” the fat one claimed he had seen just moments before. The Shizzles couldn’t believe what an entertaining show George was getting to see on his first trip back in time to the days of planet Earth. Just then a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair neatly pulled back ran up to the two stupid men.

            “Are you alright? You fell awfully hard, sir,” she said to the fat man who had fallen. She had to look up to greet him, as he was much taller than she was.

            “Yes, thank you,” replied the tall fat man, stumbling and turning red. The woman smiled gently and turned to walk away. She smiled at teenage children walking by her on their way to their studies, and the Shizzles could tell she was much friendlier than either of the two fat men. Then she entered a nearby building at the other end of the cement path where the two men stood, and disappeared into it.

            The Shizzles walked across the field of grapes, or was it grass? Mrs. Shizzle wasn’t too sure, but what she did know was that it was past time for dinner back home. She and George loaded up the shuttle and prepared to take off.

            “Wait a moment!” called George, thinking quickly, “I’d like to take home some of that man’s fat to show Palieta!”

            “You can’t take his fat home, sweetie,” said Mrs. Shizzle, “I would try to take some, but he might eat me. He looks like a hungry fat man. I’m a little concerned.” The shuttle took off back to Hofenlofel for dinner.

            “This is why we can’t trust human beings,” said Mrs. Shizzle with a sigh to herself, and she turned to look out the window at the two squirming fat men, now as small as ants on the ground miles below.

When All My Clothes Were Play Clothes

Sitting under the shade structure supervising children on the playground, I think back to when I was that age...

I miss when all my clothes were play clothes, when school clothes and exercise clothes were one and the same. I miss being able to play on the playground at a moment's notice without worrying about whether my hair would stay out of my face, because it was already so short, or whether I had the right shoes on, because I wore athletic shoes every day. I miss the creativity to turn the play equipment into a ship and the thrill of a slide that even the frequent shock of static electricity at the bottom couldn't hamper.

But alas, now I'm an adult. No longer do I run, chase, and climb all throughout the day; now my main exercise comes from my four hour-long classes each week at the gym. Before working out, I change my clothes and shoes and tie my hair into a ponytail. My daytime clothes are different from my workout clothes; I wouldn't be able to go straight from school or work to the gym without changing. I don't play tag, hang upside down, or dig holes with my bare hands on a daily basis anymore.

I miss when all my clothes were play clothes.