De-misogynized

Melyngoch assures me that, in fact, I am not a misogynist, but rather that my accuser is "the sort of theory-drunk 'feminist' who does nothing for real feminist issues, too busy being angry at men for victimizing women to let women out of the victimized role." I was worried that I would have to start calling all the women I know bitches and hoes (how does one correctly pluralize ho, anyway?) and, I don't know, kicking them around or something. This would have been unfortunate because, as has been established, some of the women in my life are borderline goddesses, Melyngoch being one of the noblest, most intelligent, and most willing to write a long email trashing faulty logic for the purpose of making me feel better.

Misogynist

Apparently I am one.

Who knew?

Attack of the Killer Spores

After we finished carving our Jack-o'-Lantern on Thursday, I put him out on the front porch for Fob to enjoy as they arrived. Later that night, though, after everyone left, I decided to bring Jack back inside with the thought that I would put him out on the back porch, where he would be enjoyed by more passersby (as it happens, we get a lot of passers passing by our back porch). Except instead of putting him outside at the time, I set him inside next to the back door, thinking I'd put him out on Friday morning.

This morning I took a look at Jack, still sitting in the same spot I put him on Thursday night--in our heated apartment--and noticed there seemed to be cobwebs in his eyes. "Oh, how very Halloweeny of you, Jack," I said. "Is there a spider living in you already?" And then I looked closer and realized, of course, that it was mold. Which is also Halloweeny, I guess, but in a gross sort of way.

Moral of the story: pumpkins, like kids, should be kept outside.

Fobsvithing on the Sabbath

I was going to start this blog post by pointing out that today is Sunday and I am posting from work, but as it turns out I actually spent my time at work today working, which means that I am now posting from home. The moral of the story, though, is that today is the fifth Sunday in a row that I have not attended church because I was working. Ironically*, the last job I had that required me to work on Sundays was at BYU, where the insistence of dorm-living freshmen on eating daily forced us to open the cafeteria on the Sabbath. Never fear, though: on Fast Sundays we opened only for dinner, ensuring that even the non-Mormons fasted through lunch.

Working at the library on Sundays has led to two realizations:

1. I kind of sort of miss church. The main reason I told FoxyJ I'd attend church with her as long as she wants to keep going is so that she is not stuck in the position of having to deal alone with two children during sacrament meeting, but I'm finding there is value to attending church services even if I don't necessarily subscribe to all the tenets of LDS doctrine. Yesterday as I read an essay by Molly Welker on why she attends Sunstone symposiums (symposia?) despite the fact that she left the Mormon church years ago, I was surprised to find that many of her reasons for attending Sunstone are my reasons for attending church. She says:

That's what Sunstone offers me: a forum where I can work to identify and embrace the elements of my religious training that help me live with greater spiritual awareness and maturity, which, admittedly, is something you can do at Church. But Sunstone also offers me a forum where I can ask if there have been elements of my training as a Mormon that get in the way of spiritual maturity, which is something you really can't do at Church. For me, it's about deciding, as consciously and deliberately as possible, what I want to keep and what I want to lose--and in order to do that, it helps to be around people who recognize some value in Mormonism to begin with, who don't think religion as a whole and Mormonism in particular are a waste of time.

Except in my case, I do find that church is a place I can ask if there are elements of my Mormon training that get in the way of spiritual maturity. I just keep the asking to myself. For the past year I have found myself somewhat distanced from the crowd in church meetings, which takes away from the sense of community I once enjoyed, but it also gives me a cognitive distance that allows me to consider for myself which principles I agree with and which ones I don't. It's easier to build an individual belief system around the framework of an existing group belief system, removing pieces here and adding pieces there, than it would be to start from scratch. As I've been figuring out what I believe over the past year, continuing to attend church has helped me avoid throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

2. I think I believe in the principle of the Sabbath. Working seven days a week (well, working five and going to school the other two, which is in effect the same thing) is too much. I enjoy having a day off to spend with my family. The weekend rotation at the library is such that I'll be off a couple Sundays in November, then all the Sundays in December. I'm going to see what I can do about avoiding the Sunday part of the rotation next quarter. And if I don't want to work on Sundays, it only seems fair of me not to require it of others, so I'm going to make a greater effort to avoid shopping or other activities that make people work on Sundays. Of course, if I don't work Sundays next quarter, then I am asking my coworkers to do so, so maybe I'll have to rethink this. Hm.

3. This realization has nothing to do with working on Sundays, but it is another Mormon principle I'm finding that I agree with. Coffee is the nastiest-tasting beverage on the face of the planet. Why on earth do people drink the stuff voluntarily?


*I'm always nervous to use this word, because no doubt someone will point out that the situation I'm referring to is in fact not ironic in the correct sense of the term; if such be the case, rest assured that, like Alanis Morrisette, I am using the term ironically ironically. Isn't it ironic?

De-nymmed (another post in which I metablog)

Though it was a mere six posts ago that I referred to the fact that my real name does not appear on my blog, observant readers will notice this is no longer the case. Yes, the posts will still say "Posted by Master Fob" and that's how I'll appear when I comment elsewhere, but I told my profile to show my real name, which puts it up in the top right corner here. See? Over there -->

I would like to say that this is a moral decision based on my belief in transparency and honesty, but really it's an economic decision. After a discussion with Th. this evening about how our blogs relate to our writing careers, I've decided that if I want my blog to be a more serious writing endeavor, and I eventually want potential readers and editors and publishers to connect my blog to my name, I'm going to have to actually put it on here.

So this is it. The kid gloves are off. Henceforth, all posts will be serious literary works. No more references to rubber pants, He-Man, or poop. Expect to see here only high-brow, high-culture, high-caliber, high-faluting (notice the preservation of the terminating velarized nasal) essays on such important subjects as world peace, global warming, and international basketweaving. Also expect to see many repetitions of the phrase "Ben Christensen is a sexy beast," so as to lead Googlers searching for those terms here.

A Public Service Announcement from the Fobcave

Folks, this is the internet. Always assume that whatever you say about someone will be read by that person, sooner or later. Especially if you refer to (a) that person's name, (b) an essay that person has written, or (c) an article that person has appeared in. Honestly, would you be this rude in person? Disagree with me all you want, but c'mon, let's not be mean. If you're not careful, you're going to hurt someone's feelings. Sure, it's his own damn fault for narcissistically Googling his name, but still...

Sneak Preview

Viewers of Fox 13 News in Salt Lake City won't see the creation of the Fob Family Jack o' Lantern 2006 for a while (we don't know when yet), but you, my dear blog readers, can see the finished product right here.

And the scary nighttime shot:

Boo! (Sorry if I scared you.)

Oh, and the interview went well, I think.