Why Animals Don't Like Me

Erik Christensen, Porkeri

Those who know me know that I'm not particularly fond of animals. I never want to own a cat or dog (especially ones that live in the house), I'm not a huge fan of hamsters or creepy things, and I don't plan to live on a farm. These declarations may be surprising to hear considering I grew up around animals. We had all sorts of animals when I was growing up—dogs, cats, sheep, goats, and pigs. We also had toads that lived under our patio. Our neighbor also had animals that my siblings and I would frequently go visit. One fond memory from childhood is going out to the coop to see the newborn lambs. While I still love seeing the little lambies frolicking in the fields in the spring—from a distance—I feel no other attachment to animals in general.

After pondering why this should be, I came to realize it isn't necessarily that I don't like them. In fact, it isn't my fault at all; it's that they don't like me. I've had many unpleasant experiences that have led me to this conclusion. I believe my ambivalence started when I was the tender age of two or three, and our dog Caramel (Karmel? Carmel? I'm not really sure how his name was spelled) decided to tackle me to the ground. It was one of those traumatic experiences that you always remember, and I've never cared for that dog since. Keesh, Caramel's successor, was a great dog, but I don't think I was ever as close to him as my other siblings were.

There are a number of other episodes that lead me to my theory of animals' general dislike of me: having cats come and go frequently as a child—either from running away, dying, or deciding to become feral; having mean dogs kill our sheep, including the little lamb Lucy; nearly having a heart attack every time I accidentally ran over a water snake (both alive and dead) while riding my bike in the summer; hearing a rabbit scream when Sammy and I attempted to catch one of David and Jill's that got away while they were gone; and watching my college roommate's hamster go into convulsions shortly before it died and then having the replacement hamster find it's way to my pillow without me seeing it one night.

As traumatic as all of those experiences were, I believe the animal race finally drove me from their affection one Sunday when I was home from college for the summer. I was working as a temp for a company in Salt Lake, and I couldn't get time off work to go to out of town for a few days with my family. I was left in charge of feeding the dog and chickens while everyone else was gone. Sunday morning I woke up and got ready for my 9 a.m. Church meetings. About 15 minutes before I needed to leave, I went out to feed the animals. As I approached the shed where all of the food was kept, I noticed the dog playing with something as he sat on the step to the shed. I realized when I got closer that it was a dead gopher. Don't worry—rather that drag it away when I approached, the dog left the gopher on the step and went back to his house. I gingerly stepped over the disgusting carcass and got the chicken feed from the shed.

As I attempted to pour the chicken feed in the chickens' trough, one of the chickens decided to flee the coop (or chicken tractor, as the case may be). Just imagine me running around the shed in a dress trying to catch the dumb chicken. I got so fed up that I decided to leave the chicken to its own devices—if it was dumb enough to escape, then it deserved whatever fate came to it. Besides, I was all ready for Church, and catching a chicken wasn't worth being late. Flustered and disgusted (remember the gopher), I went off to Church. That afternoon, I called my brother David, who lived close, to come and catch the dumb chicken, since it was still wandering around the yard when I got home from Church. Of course, he was able to catch it under a minute and put it back.

That evening, my family came home, but for some reason, I was still the one charged with feeding the animals that night. As I carefully held open the lid to the chickens' home—in order to keep any from escaping again—the bees who were building a hive under the lid unbeknownst to me decided to sting my hand and wrist multiple times. I trod back to the house and declared I was finished feeding the animals—for good. I don't think I was ever asked to feed them again.

So now the record is straight. The reason I can't stand to pick up a dead mouse in a trap or approach a giant city rat in the subway is because I know they're out to get me, and I've learned that if we keep our distance from each other, everyone's lives will be more peaceful than they would be otherwise. And peace is all I'm really looking for.

Reverently, Quietly

I was recently given a new responsibility in Church—I teach the 3-year-olds. In Mormon lingo, that is to say, I teach the Sunbeams—8 of them. In fact, that's only half of the 3-year-olds in our ward. I think this is either a good joke to the powers that be or they are oblivious to my inexperience with children. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love children. I especially love my nieces and nephews. However, playing with or talking to a child for a few minutes is very different than raising a child or being responsible for teaching them; it's a daunting task. I'd rather teach gospel doctrine in a classroom full of adults any day, mostly because I'm used to adults.

In the few weeks I've been teaching these little darlings, there have been a lot of amusing comments. The hardest thing right now is that they are all very new to Primary, and some have a really hard time without their parents. There are a couple of kids who come very near—or have a full-blown—meltdown every week. Today was the first real meltdown for one little girl, and when that happens, it affects the other kids in class. Every week, I think of this video. If you watch from 6:15 to 7:25, you'll get an idea of what today was like:

However, the one thing that has struck me so far is how quick these little kids are to love and how eager they are to please. This was only my 3rd Sunday, and already many of them want to sit by me or tell me all about what they did during the past week. It melts my heart every time. I think I need to keep that in mind when the next meltdown happens.

Stay tuned for more stories, as they are sure to come in the upcoming weeks.

In Response to Another's Opinion

Recently, I have read a couple of articles from those who say they have been raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but have for one reason or another decided to no longer practice their faith. One of these articles was written by an acquaintance from my undergraduate days at BYU. I am certainly not in a place to judge anyone's experience or personal feelings. I don't know their experience, and I believe everyone is free to choose to lead their lives the way they feel is best. I also believe we should be compassionate towards all people. However, I don't believe compassion means accepting all behavior as correct. I believe the doctrines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to be correct, and I lead my life accordingly.

That being said, I would like to describe my own experience with regard to two points this article addressed—education/intellectualism and the place of women in the Church. I write this not to discount the experiences or feelings of the author of the above article but to explain my own experience, which has been so different than the one described in the article.

Education and Intellectualism
I grew up in a family that encouraged curiosity and valued education. I always felt like the Church has encouraged its members to search and find answers to their questions. In the Doctrine and Covenants, a widely referenced scripture explains this process of finding answers:
"But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right." Indeed, as members of the Church, we believe the "glory of God is intelligence."

I believe the key is combining critical thinking with prayer. Prayer has helped me many times to reconcile what is perceived to be contradictions between knowledge of scholars and the truth of God. We have an unmitigated channel to truth as we combine spiritual and secular things because the Spirit testifies of all truth, including secular truth.

In my academic studies, I have felt the Holy Ghost guide me in many things—from communication theory and British literary history to the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Instead of my faith being opposed to education, I found that faith and education not only coincide but exist in complete harmony together. In fact, one of the Church's leaders described scholarship as a form of worship, as I described when I first went back to school. For as many " dissident Mormons" who find their academic studies contradict what is taught in the Church, there are just as many or more who say their academic studies coincide and strengthen their faith in God and Jesus Christ. Henry Eyring, a renowned scientist, believed inspiration and academic research go hand-in-hand.

As far as BYU goes, the search for truth has always been part of its mission. I have found that to be true in my six years of school there.

Women in the Church
The author of the article mentioned above stated her belief that the Church has an "anti-woman" doctrine. To say such a thing shows a complete lack of understanding relative to our Church's doctrine about men and women. I could list article after article from leaders of the Church who state women should be actively involved in their families and communities, especially as righteous influences to others. The message from these is clear: women are not to be voiceless, uneducated second-class citizens. Everything I have heard or read sends the clear message that men and women have equal importance in the eyes of God, and both have a vital role to play in this world.

That being said, the Church isn't, and shouldn't be, apologetic about emphasizing the important role of mothers. To say the most important role a woman can fulfill is motherhood is not to demean her; it is to show the importance of a family. Where else can a woman have such an influence for good than in her own home? I say that as a person who does not yet have a husband or children. I still see motherhood as the greatest role a woman can fulfill.

What other religions have an organization specifically for women, who have organized to offer relief to those in needs since the day it was organized? At its first meeting, the Relief Society's president said the organization was going to do "something extraordinary." That extraordinary work has included donating much-needed grain to people in Europe after Word War II, working for women's suffrage alongside Susan B. Anthony, working on the national level as charter members of the National Council for Women, and working to help families on a local level in neighborhoods around the world. Women of the Church are teachers, nurturers, and leaders. In addition, men and women in the Church have always been encouraged to get an education. On more than one occasion, women specifically have been encouraged to gain an education.

In short, my experience in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has showed me that education and seeking truth is encouraged and expected, and women in the Church are encouraged to gain an education and use their talents for good throughout the world.

A Dream Deferred

Ever since spending a few weeks in New York a few years ago, I've thought seriously about living the city life, even if it were for just a few years. I love being at the center of the action and having concerts, museums, and restaurants a walk away. A couple of months ago, my sisters, mom, and I had lunch with Suzy and Jennifer. Afterward, we went to the sales office of some new high-rise condos in the heart of downtown—just to look. I fell in love with the floor-to-ceiling windows, spectacular views of the city, and beautiful living spaces. I could just picture myself there, relaxing after my walk home from work while partaking of the spectacular views.

Since I graduated, I have been looking for a job in and out of state. Most in-state job openings were in this same beautiful city. That's the dream—to live and work in the city, especially this city. As irony would have it, I came home that same day to a job offer in my inbox in a town about 50 miles from these gorgeous condos and this lively city. By the end of the day, I had a second offer in the same town 50 miles away, and that's the offer I accepted. I've been at this fabulous new job in a town I didn't expect to work in for almost two months now, and I've moved to a nearby town where I certainly never thought I would live. Here's the thing—it's all good. It's all really good. I love the job, and I love my new place. The town where I work is really great too; it's just not the high-rise condo type of a town. So for the time being, I'm setting aside that high-rise life for a great job in another good place.

While there have been plenty of times when things work out just the way I wanted them to, there have been other times when I have set a dream aside in my life. Often that deferred dream fades into oblivion because reality is better than whatever the original dream was. Sometimes the dream is ever-present, waiting in the shadows until the right time to venture into the light. Occasionally, I wonder why reality isn't closer to the dream I set aside or why the timing isn't right for this dream or that dream, but I still get those blessed moments occasionally where I know I am where I'm supposed to be.

In many ways, this experience is a little bit of all of those times, and so I have set that dream aside in the ever-present shadows for now. Who knows? Maybe it will be one that fades into oblivion, or maybe it will be one that finds a time to reappear at some future date. But for now I've decided to bask in the great, albeit unexpected, life before me.

Why the Silence

At this time, after a rather long absence, I feel the need to explain why I sometimes disappear from the blogosphere. In addition to starting a new job and moving to a new place, which has kept me busy the past few weeks, this is what usually leads me to go quiet:
1. I try to avoid unfiltered drivel. There are plenty of times I have thoughts that I think might be blog-worthy, but sometimes those thoughts are never written because they don't make it through the filter. One example is the list of status updates I never want to read on Facebook (but so often do). It would probably offend too many people, and I would come off looking quite negative and judgmental. So, don't ask for the list; you're not going to get it.
2. I try to present fully formed thoughts. I am an introvert, which means I don't work out ideas by talking/writing about them. I like to think things through before presenting things—in a blog as well as in a work meeting and other situations. Sometimes an idea just doesn't get fully developed before I decide it's not worth posting, and I don't think you want to read my half-formed ideas or mindless ramblings.
3. This is not a journal. Many people use their blogs as journals, but I don't share every emotion or every fact of my life in the public sphere. I have no problem with those who do, but it's not for me. (See comment above about being an introvert.) I could share exciting events or facts about my life, but by it's very nature, this blog contains musings. I try not to share pictures of a family vacation without some sort of thoughtful or amusing commentary or daily anecdotes without some pithy response. (At least that's my attempt.)
4. Too many words. I work with words professionally, and sometimes it's hard to deal with more words at the end of the day after coming home from a day's work. The video here is exactly how I feel sometimes—"Never ever do I want to hear another word. There isn't one I haven't heard." In saying so, let me be clear—I love being an editor, and I love working with words, but an occasional break is always nice.
5. Sincerity. Because I don't blog for a living, I don't blog when I'm not in the mood. I feel sincerity is the key to good writing, and if I'm not feeling it, I'm not going to write it.

So, I hope to finish up some past drafts and post on the blog in the next little while. Thanks for coming back (those that still do) despite my irregular posting habits!

Domestic Fail

Image: Master isolated images / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

When I was 8 or 9 years old, I was in a little cooking 4H club. My mom and aunt were the leaders, and there were girls in the club from the neighborhood. My sister and cousin were also in the club. It was a great experience—I still remember the importance to leveling dry ingredients with a straight edge, how to boil eggs to avoid the green ring on the yoke, and why it's good to combine all dry ingredients before adding them to the rest of the mixture.

The culmination of our little club was entering a baked good into the county fair. I made lemon bars from the old Lion House cookbook, and I received a blue ribbon. I still remember being very proud of those lemon bars. I could conquer the world if I could make those. I've had a lot of baking and cooking successes and failures over the years, but overall, I consider myself fairly adept at cooking.

Fast forward to today: I'm in a book club that's meeting tonight. We're discussing Stargirl (which I've loved since the first time I read it). One of the most vivid memories from that book is the description of Stargirl's yellow dress when she goes to the school dance. I thought lemon bars would be the perfect treat to take. (Because they're yellow. Get it?)

I set out this afternoon to make said lemon bars from the updated version of the Lion House cookbook. After they cooled a little bit, I tried them to see how they were. Let me tell you, they were a classic failure. They didn't cook long enough and the lemon flavor was too strong (it wasn't sweet enough). In looking back, I'm sure it's my fault for two reasons:

1. Lemon rind vs. lemon peel
The recipe called for "lemon rind." I'm no professional cook, but isn't the rind the peel? After a quick Google search, it seems some are of the opinion that the rind is the peel and others think it is the white part just under the peel. If it's the white part under the peel, I don't know how you get to it without using the yellow part of the peel. Well, I included some yellow and white part to cover my bases, but maybe it was too much. I was supposed to do the rind of one lemon. Maybe my lemon was too large, or maybe I shouldn't have included any of the white part. (Any help from cooks more professional than I would be greatly appreciated.)

2. I don't understand large time ranges
I was supposed to cook the lemon bars for "18 to 25 minutes." Is it strange to anyone else that there's a seven-minute range? What does that mean? You can't exactly do a toothpick test on lemon bars because they're too gooey. How do you know when they're done? I left them in for almost the entire 25 minutes, but after cooling, I tried to cut them, and they were totally soupy. Clearly, whatever time I cooked them for wasn't enough.

I'm not sure what all of this says about my cooking skills. It could be that my nine-year-old self was a much better cook than my current self. Or maybe my nine-year-old self was a good cook under the close supervision of my mother (who will always be the epitome of domesticity to me).

I could probably make some obvious reference to a saying about what to do when life gives you lemons, but I won't. Instead, I have just one thing to say about this experience: this website makes me feel so much better about my life.

Bouquets of Sharpened Pencils

I love fall. I understand that by so saying, some people may label me a heretic, but while some people are soaking up every last ray of summer sun left at this time of year, I start yearning for the signs of fall.

While many also insist you must live and enjoy the present (which I try to do), I think there's something to be said for having something to look forward to. So on this 20th of August, I hereby present the reasons I am looking forward to fall this year (and every year):

Image: Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

School. This is the first year since 2009 I won't be starting classes for fall semester. While there were a few years before my graduate degree that I wasn't attending school, I will miss walking around campus and enjoying the novelty of a new textbook. (I realize few people love looking through a new textbook, but with an undergrad in English, it was exciting to see the novels for the semester.) Perhaps this year, I will need to read a new book to keep the feeling going.

Fall leaves. I know I should appreciate the summer foliage. After all, I never realize how green the world is until a winter of barrenness melts into the budding green of spring. However, I love the fall colors. Nothing brings a smile to my face like kicking my feet through a muss of fallen maple leaves.

Image: Adam Hickmott / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Crisp air. I love not having to wear any sort of outerwear in the summer, but by the time September comes, I'm excited to feel that first crispness in the air that makes your cheeks flush (but not freeze like January). I love the first time I can see my breath on a crisp morning.

Image: foto76 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

New beginnings. Perhaps it's because the new school year starts in the fall, but the idea of new beginnings in September are permanently etched in my mind. I always see the fall as a time to start something new or to reflect on how my life has changed or improved since the last fall. Maybe it's just the general sentiment of change—the weather, nature, and my wardrobe.

Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Holidays. Fall denotes the beginning of the big holidays to me: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Those holidays have always been the big ones in my family, and I love gathering with family. There are so many great things to celebrate, and as the dun of winter approaches, I love having these happy times to look forward to.

So now, of course, I feel like sending everyone I know a bouquet of sharpened pencils.