Since the resolution of the last post, angelic Claire Brown has faded from gold back to grey… I think the event is passed. It leaves me with less nostalgic melancholy for her, but with nothing to take its place, and no sense of purpose… I only wonder what’s ahead until the end comes.
My parents didn’t come home on Monday. Dave’s dad had fallen in the bathroom from hypotension or something; his nutrition had flagged, and he had some kind of infection. They escorted him to a hospital, finally returning at about 1:00 a.m..
Shane and my grandmother had eaten out that evening (“Wingers”) and brought some home for me; Shane had me call her to thank her. We spent at least an hour or two on the phone. She’s a marvelous person whom I would be lucky to be able to emulate. She inquired after Myeong-Seon.
I think I finally filled out my mail-in ballot for our Utah Republican primaries that day, leaving it in the mailbox. Obviously, I selected Romney, seeing as how his competitors had gone extinct. Of course, I’ve been pulling for him since, when… 2006? 2007? And ’08, and ’10, as far as that went, and all of last year, too, and this year. And finally, here at the end, I’ve cast this last (early) vote for him, the last of the party that has already selected him… I guess the circle’s closed. There’s still November; I’m not sure how to arrange an overseas vote, and if that proves difficult, I have the rest of Utah to carry me, anyway.
I’m not the only one to have noticed the many providential signs that have littered Romney’s path this entire cycle; it’s been… maybe over half a year since I stopped doubting that he was destined for the nomination and office. Obama, having saved some of his worst moves for last, is all but deflated, and can barely tell center from left any more, or discern political suicide from survival. It seems like our man is going to have a comfortable win, if we can only stick it through for another four months… and then, the actual job, of course. But Providence has certainly surprised us before…
Otherwise, I picked… Mark Crockett over Mike Winder. There was a variety of reasons, including that I actually met Crockett at the caucuses (though he wasn’t exactly cheerful), but I mostly was glad his on-line person corrected a language error on his page after a complaint I sent in, and I didn’t like that Winder served in Taiwan and touted his dang Mandarin so much. I wouldn’t mind him, anyway.
I chose, uh… let’s see. John Dougall over Auston Johnson for auditor (though I don’t think he’ll win), because Johnson employed what I consider profanity in one of his overly cerebral adverts.
I was going to choose Mel Nimer or whatever his name is over, uh… Joseph Demma, because Demma decided to send out a single line (an endorsement or quotation or who knows what) in one of his ads, which was tremendously unhelpful to whatever case he was trying to make. Then I saw Melvin was a business guy, and I wondered if he knew what he was talking about. Then I noticed he was “engaged” but not married, and I foresaw scandal from personality defects. Finally, I noticed he was openly homosexual, a former advocacy leader; and even though I seem to tolerate the Church’s employment/housing non-discrimination approach, and even if he and his foe decide to keep it out of the campaign, that doesn’t stop a guy who’s promoted a cause I decry from continuing to promote it in office. I couldn’t very honestly choose somebody so unrepresentative of me as my representative.
Is that all? Oh, yeah… I chose Sean Reyes over John Swallow. That was a tougher call for me… From the start, I was at worst neutral to Swallow, and expected to vote for him anyway; I think my biggest problem was with his big, Joker smile. I spent some effort convincing myself not to vote on people over their genetics. There was just one point when I read something from Reyes that I agreed with, and that kind of tipped me toward him. I think Swallow had the advantage in the race, though.
Finally, I obviously supported Orrin Hatch over Dan Liljenquist, just since he’s done such an admirable job over his long career. I liked him when he came and spoke at BYU with Mark Zuckerberg Chan some years ago… and there was another time he spoke by himself. He had a quick mind for policy and was highly respectful of public offices, even when held by his ideological foes.
Let’s see… the very first time I admired him was when I saw him in committee on C-SPAN or whatever haggling over ObamaCare. I sat there and watched him make several very thoughtful, cogent objections and deferential calls for co-operation, sort of naively expecting reciprocation from a majority party that had long ago abandoned bipartisanship as a default, and that was in no mood for any level of compromise. He was like some concerned kid sticking his finger in a leaky dike, along with his committee fellows. Though the dike in question collapsed on him, I thought he’d made perfectly feasible suggestions and put up a fine resistance. He might just have rescued Obama, if they’d listened to him.
Anyway, he’s a bit… uh, ingrained with politics, but I don’t think I could’ve done any better than he’s done. Being old is no reason to throw a guy into the street.
The clerk for some stupid reason sent me an extra mail ballot after the first, which I didn’t open.
I think my FBI criminal background check arrived on Monday, too, authenticated by the U.S. State Department and ready to send off to Korea. All I have to do now is print off about fifty pages of stuff and mail it out… if only I can find the time. I’ll do it on Saturday at the latest. My recruiters, AST, advised me to have the stuff there 8 weeks in advance of the school term, so I don’t have long.
My training for Hometech Incorporated finished on Tuesday, and my workload went up from 1 transcription per day to 4-5 per day. Each one can easily take up an hour, with review. It will be a bit more money. I thought about asking for even more, but now find myself already bogged down. A lot of the files are twice as long as before…
Today, I tried confirming a guy’s unusual name on Google (not required for the type-up, but I give it a shot anyway if I can’t hear it) and found… his obituary.
He was 36. His insurance statement was a little old, taken about 25 months ago; his obituary was 12 months ago. He sounded completely harmless and unassuming, with a nice, thick West Virginian accent. He said stuff like, “We was…”, “ain’t nothing”. He’d gone to nursing school…
The statement wasn’t for his claim, but for a friend whose car he’d been in… He hadn’t been injured from that. It wasn’t clear how he died.
I felt bad for him. I was transcribing the voice of a dead man… I bet his family would want it.
…But, no, he’s not dead. He’s finally alive, now.
…And I felt bad for all the other people I type. They get in these pointless, minor accidents… their fault, or the other guy’s fault; it’s never 100% clear. Mistakes compound, and magnify each other. Anyway, they need their insurance to pay for it. They’ll mostly lose money on the deal, no matter what. But they’re all hoping to get help somehow, by giving their reports… Most are still a little shaken up from the crash; some are witnesses. Some are a bit frustrated with the bad faith of their counterparts, or with the unhelpful process…
…And then, suddenly, they’re dead the next year. It didn’t matter at all…
…But the least anybody could have done would have been to help them out with their little, bent up cars… They’re like these hapless children who are just trying to go about their lives while they still have them.
Such nice, good people. I always laugh at their weird manners of speech, but, ah…
…How I hope they can just be happy. My heart goes out to them…
I shouldn’t be so lazy typing up their statements…
I remember Masami hitting Tanner Mullen’s car while practicing in my Camry… A tiny accident, but we sure paid for it. I hope she finally has her license by now.
I remember, uh… spinning my mom’s truck on the freeway and hitting the wall, denting up the back corner. I spun her Jeep Cherokee once too, and sort of backed into a heavy fence, but it caused no harm.
I hit that poor Hispanic lady once, who stopped to turn at a temporarily no-left-turn intersection, down the road. Bent in her van’s back doors very slightly, but did nothing to my vehicle… that same Cherokee. We walked away from it. I think she just didn’t fully understand the weight of that sign… I could have avoided her if I’d been more cautious.
Let’s see… I hit that wooden electrical post with Tugsuu down at the Great Salt Lake. I don’t think it did anything… Oh yeah, it took out my Camry’s headlight, only. That was stupid; one of the very few times I’ve taken my eyes and mind off the road.
No rental car crashes yet…
I cracked in some car’s flimsy bumper with the trailer hitch of my mom’s truck once, up at the stake center as I was leaving. I could ill afford the aggregate expense that stupid little thing would amount to, so I just left, then brought back whatever money I could scrape up to leave anonymously on the windshield… I wonder what happened with them. I guess I could afford it now, if they even bothered with it. Too late.
What else? I remember thinking that I nicked something with my mom’s truck or van or something once, its mirror… but I couldn’t figure out what, if anything, I’d brushed against. And this year, I touched a big metal fixture on the parking street just north of the Conference Centre while backing up in my mom’s truck, but it didn’t seem to leave any mark.
I guess that’s everything. Nothing heinous… and now I’m carless again.
Lately I’ve taken to night biking. I go up and see the sunset at the school if I can, like tonight… so beautiful, for the solstice; bright and penetrating but simple, with a short, thin row of clouds dusting the top. Otherwise, I go after midnight, when the entire neighbourhood is empty. Then I ride down… pretty much Craig Drive, over there, feeling almost like flying, and wondering whether I’ll hit any small animals or road debris and go flying for real.
Hm. That’s all…
I’ve talked to dear Myeong-Seon, and also to Erica Sit, who has recently friendlied back up. Irene Xiang-Vei Lim chatted again; she’s trying to get into Monash University, an Australian school with a branch in her Malaysia.
…I guess that’s what her husband does, Claire’s…: helps people. That page says he does disability law, civil cases, and bankruptcy. He could be very useful to people… but who knows?
By chance, last Sunday I raised my hand to read a scripture in Jay Anderson’s lesson. It was a big flame of corrupt laywers… Todd Calvert had just walked in and sat down (he rarely attends that class), and although I read it with conviction, I hoped he wouldn’t take it as a personal comment on his dang, perfect son-in-law. He’s surely in the dark about me having liked that girl, but it was a cute coincidence to me.
Anyway, if laywers have sufficient command of legalism to pervert the truth, it stands to reason that they can also straighten it if they choose to. For her sake and all of their sakes, I hope Adam C. Brown, Esquire follows that higher road that he was born to and married to. I’ll assume the best.