As we further advance as a society, we begin to bring into light new and controversial subjects that, through debate and discussion, help govern new laws and restrictions. More specifically, the controversy of whether gay marriage should be legal has risen so much so, that multiple states are considering or have already legalized gay marriage. I firmly believe that marriage is to be an act between a man and a woman, and no other. Being raised in a Christian family has taught me that marriage is a gift; a chance to be with a significant other for the rest of your life. Christianity has also taught me that God deems marriage as only between a man and a woman, and that any other way is a carnal sin.

If religion is not your specific strong point, than let nature be an influence. The basic anatomy of our own bodies, whether you believe created by God or evolution, dictates that we are supposed to be with the opposite sex, and any other way is, simply put, a perversion a nature. Many evolutionists who favor gay marriage might bring forth the fact that many animals, even the primates that they think we evolved from, practice some sort of homosexuality and it is simply a curiosity that mother nature has given us. Though this is true, it is also important to realize that our brains and capacity for thought are so much more advanced than that of a primate or other animal and any such notion of intersexual relations should be ruled out by simple human logic.

As you can see, I have a very firm opinion on this matter, but do know that these are simply my opinions written down, and should not be taken threateningly or offensive. I am willing to hear both sides of any subject, so i must ask: Do you think we should legalize same sex marriage?

'Truth' or Dare

I have always been a fan of those Truth ads that we all have probably seen on TV, in magazines, etc. I first saw the truth ads in my PlayStation magazine when I was younger and they have always stuck, mainly because of the rather disturbing images which sometimes included a body part being sewn shut to emphasize the silence aspect of tobacco companies. Aside from these advertisements, one specific commercial came on while I was watching a show a few years ago that had a rather large group of people in a city environment. With everyone in plain view, a truck starts unloading dozens and dozens of body bags onto the street. This was a shocking display for anyone to see, especially the by-standers in the city. As you can see in the picture, a person holds up a sign that claims that 1200 people die every day due to tobacco consumption, and to emphasize that number, they dump 1200 body bags in the street.

To anyone that smokes cigarettes or chews tobacco, I could see this as being controversial, but I also cannot help but think that anyone who smokes or chews was not forced to do so. People who do tobacco chose to give in to that pressure, and therefore it is my opinion that this image should not be controversial on account that the person's own free will was what decided to get addicted in the first place. I can see this image as being more of a help than that of a discouragement, in that it (excuse my vernacular) is a punch in the face to those who partake of tobacco. I would imagine that if I smoked and saw this add, I would be more than just a little deterred from even the thought of using something that has such potentially life threatening consequences. Of course, the other side of the controversy is from the large scale tobacco companies that allow these products to be manufactured for global use. I often find myself questioning the very purpose of these tobacco products when even the companies that manufacture them acknowledge the harmful effects of long-term use. It simply does not make sense to me that a corporation would mass produce something as harmful as tobacco without any thought to the lives that they would be destroying (according to this, 1200 per day), despite whether it is the user's decision.

This reminds me of a journal entry I made in English class just today, which was a picture of a morbidly obese dog and the McDonald's logo/slogan in the top corner. My professor made a good point on the subject: Do you think that if you put hundreds of cheeseburgers in front of the dog, the dog will know when to stop? Probably not because as long as they are free for the taking, the dog will consume them, as nature dictates. It is all about willpower, of which the dog does not have. To make an analogy, the tobacco companies of America are producing a product of which has the lulling effects that those cheeseburgers would have on a dog, except the dog was not born with the sense of reason which we humans have. I compare the nicotine in tobacco products to the absence of reason in the dog's brain; both of them cancel out the ability to logically understand when something should not be entered into the body and the users of tobacco have an nigh uncontrollable urge to continue use of something that they simply do not need. In essence, the easily accessible market that supplies these products is just like the owner of a dog that continues to feed until the dog's body slowly begins to deteriorate and, ultimately, shut itself down.

A Whole Other Life In My Backyard

When my family and I moved here fourteen years ago, we moved into a neighborhood that was in the process of being developed. It was a small neighborhood at the top of a hill with a freshly paved cul-de-sac in the middle. Each house had at least two acres, and the house that we chose had a view from our backyard of an entirely different neighborhood with a valley separating the two of us. I never really did give much attention to any of these details until only recently, on account of the fact that I will be moving away shortly. So it probably goes without saying that one particular house within view from my backyard was also given no special significance by me, but now I realize the great friendship I could have developed at an early age with the young resident of that house. Her name is Stephanie and she has actually lived there her entire life, but I regretfully never knew any of this until just this year. It never ceases to amaze me how someone that has so much potential to influence my life can exist right in my own backyard for almost all of my life without me ever knowing.
Now that I have developed a friendship with Stephanie, I chose to get to know her a little better. While she and I were relaxing in the study at my house, I asked her about what little I knew about her. I asked her about her volleyball enthusiasm and when it had all started. I could tell from the start of her speaking that this was going to be a deeper subject than I would have anticipated. She went on nostalgically talking about how her parents had actually met while playing volleyball, and in turn had fallen in love. I could almost hear her smile through her voice as she said that she had been raised with volleyball in her crib, much like an ordinary child would be raised with the classic rattle and blanket. I also came to learn that her father had owned a volleyball company as she grew up and later, in seventh grade, she started playing on the school volleyball team, of which she continues to this day. I am further intrigued as I learned this because I had always been a bit one sided when it came to sports (I’m not really a fan of any sports) until I learned of the meaning they hold to some people, especially Stephanie. I also couldn’t help but realize the similarity to her upbringing as to mine, except in my case my grandfather was a blacksmith and had given me my first sword at the fragile age of two, further advancing his blacksmithing legacy into my hands now.
As we continue our casual talking, I move to the subject of her future, and I ask how she wants to live in the later stages of life. Stephanie does an excellent job of catching me off guard when she says that she wants to live in Montana. Her eyes are ecstatic as she says, “I want to live in the middle of nowhere…I want to live in a big house with a big yard on top of a hill.” I am baffled to learn that this presumably average teenage girl wants to live in a secluded, peaceful state while most other girls her age are focused on things such as materials, wealth, and [usually] living in a bustling city. As she continues, I further notice how similar she is to me, as I too wish to live in a secluded, beautiful place like that of hers. “We wanted open skies,” she responds as I ask when she had first longed to live in Montana. She bases it off of John Denver’s song titled ‘Montana Sky’. I can feel the emotion reaching from her words as she speaks about the future she longs to live.
Our casual conversation in the study becomes deeper as I continue to ask about her life. I became rather jealous when I learned that she had left the country a total of four times, once traveling to Russia on a cruise, and another two times when leaving to serve on a mission trip to Peru that lasted a total of eleven days. The other trip was to Germany, Austria, Hungary, and Italy with her grandparents. I can tell that I have hit a soft spot with Stephanie when she mentioned her grandparents. I came to learn that family is a very important part of her life, and a particular great grandmother Park was a pivotal influence to Stephanie in her life. Great grandmother Park was a woman whose faith in God never wavered for the ninety and some odd years that she lived. As I ponder about the importance of this astounding woman, I can’t help but notice that Stephanie herself shows many of the attributes that Grandmother Park showed. Stephanie, to me, seems like a woman in a young person’s body, especially in that she has such a firm and undoubting set of beliefs and standards that I can guess are comparable to Grandmother Park’s. I’ve often seen Stephanie making decisions with such firm faith and knowledge, when even a middle-aged adult would struggle in the same situations. She truly is a firm example of the bonds that a family can share.
At the end of our discussion the night begins to grow deeper outside, bringing a close to the meaningful conversation. Now as I reflect on all that I’ve learned about Stephanie, something struck me: To me it seems that throughout the years our lives have always tried to come into contact with one another, but it has taken all these years for us to actually meet. I realize that I have had countless opportunities to meet her, from when we would ride the same bus home from school or even in the fact that we had the same best friend at a young age! I can think of countless experiences where I had the opportunity to meet and get to know her, but life has preferred to wait until the moment I move away to actually meet this friend that could have been a source of help and inspiration to me throughout most of my life. It would seem that life has its twists and turns that we may never understand, but we simply must continue on the path placed before us without question.

An Open Mind

With an open mind, almost everything can be entertaining. I came to realize this while sitting on a bench at Baker Park in downtown Frederick. When you truly think about what it is that you are looking at, everything seems to turn into a book or a movie rather than real life.
I noticed a woman walking her child of about one or two years of age through the tennis courts. I couldn’t help but also notice that she seemed to be aloof to the child; focusing on something else entirely. There is a man in a jeans jacket and, you guessed it, jeans that gave him an overall rough look while sitting on a park bench with his equally rough looking little dog loyally lying on the ground next to his foot. When I walked past them, the dog didn’t so much as glance at me, which gives me the inclination that he and his faithful companion often sit on the park bench. Routines are often at the heart of every person, even the random man on the bench. I have also seen countless morning joggers running around the park, some commenting to their partner things such as, “Wow that food smells good” or “How long do you think this cloud streak is going to last?” At a remark about a food stand, I realized that some sort of reception with a presumably pro chef and his oversized grill was being held outside of a rather large gazebo. The people gathered around him were dressed very well, much more than I would expect, it being morning with overcast skies. Also, I couldn’t help but notice all of the children outside playing in the field or on the swings with their parents. This reminded me of how full this exact park was during the summer, especially during the fourth of July and the fireworks festival. It seemed everyone in town was here at that moment.
Now, it being the beginning of September, I feel a cool breeze that helps emphasize the cloudy gray sky, and remind me that summer is basically over. With that note, and as ironic as it may sound, two men are working on a cherry-picker to take down a large banner that announced all of the summer activities taking place around Frederick, further proving that summer is gone. Another dog walked by, this time desperately trying to sniff my leg, but the owner pulled him back. I’m beginning to wonder why some people are walking around, as if they have nothing better to do on Thursday morning. My focus is diverted when I notice that the large tree I am sitting under dropping acorns all over the place. So many have dropped that I don’t even bother to look when a here a clack from the ground. They have ceased to amuse me.
Something strange then occurred: the sun peeked out from behind the thick layer of clouds, probably for the first time in a few days. I was starting to enjoy the overcast conditions, as they remind me of my hometown in Washington where the skies were clouded over most if not all of the time. Anyway, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a woman sat down on a bench just down the path and decided to read a book. Even through the great distance between herself and I, I can see that she is reading one of those popular ’Twilight’ novels. I am almost annoyed at the fact that almost everybody I’ve met has read this book and I am further annoyed by the fact that all of my friends and acquaintances think I look like this Edward Cullen vampire character. I guess I should at least try to take it as a complement, beings how all the girls think he is so dreamy, but I still don’t think I resemble him. It’s funny: pop-culture seems to change so quickly. My thoughts are distracted by a woman who is almost shouting because she is talking so loud. I really wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in a two-hundred foot radius knew exactly what she was talking about (I know I did).
At this point, I realized that our very lives can be something like a one of a kind book; a book without any specific genre. Instead of having a pre-determined genre, the book that is our lives can contain anything from tragedy to romance and, at the right moment, it can even seem like a fiction novel. In the end, I’ve noticed that there is a large, unread book right outside our doorsteps.

So Nice. I Did It Twice

How can you describe the feeling you get when completing something that you created with your own hands? For me, it is a type of overwhelming satisfaction and pride that can only be attained through instances such as this. Ever since childhood, I have had a desire to create, whether through art or even writing. At my young ages, I had stuck mostly to drawing pictures, but as I got older I broadened my horizons into the genres of writing, woodworking, blacksmithing, and now, most importantly, automotive restoration. The earliest age I can remember becoming interested in cars was age 12, when I was given a black 1970 SS El Camino model car with racing stripes on the hood. I was intrigued with its style and beauty, probably because I had not seen any other vehicle like it in my day. From then on I had made it my decision to search for that car, buy it, and make it look as good as that model did. At approximately age 14, I had found a 1984 El Camino that was in excellent condition, and I spent my entire savings on it. As risky as that decision was (I knew that it may need work eventually), I was determined to do whatever was necessary in order to make that car my everyday, reliable driving car, and make it look like my model. Through the years I did indeed have issues, which caused me to put two engines in it and replace/rebuild things such as the back end, transmission, and (of course) the stereo. Most recently I decided to take on the extensive process of giving it a new paint job. It was my dream to paint the car almost exactly as it is on the model car that I was given. This decision will prove to be more timely and tedious than I would have ever expected.
For those who are not aware of the process involved in painting a car, the first step is to choose paint and buy all of the needed components for the paint such as primer, hardener, reducer, and possibly clear coat. I, being an upper-classmen in high school at the time, did not have any large sums of money to dump into a high class exterior restoration, so I acquired the help of a friend who happened to be a professional automotive restorer (lucky, right?). Well with his help I discovered a car event in Carlisle, Pennsylvania that sold car paint for a relatively affordable price of 90 dollars. This may sound like an expensive can of paint, but in truth a good quality, respectable can of car paint can run an average of 300 dollars per can! I felt as though I was the luckiest kid around, beings how I was going to paint my historic car in the dream design for free with a professional. I could already picture the sleek, black shine with the two signature style SS stripes on the hood. The second [two-part] step in the painting process is to sand off the layer of paint on the car and fill the minor dents and imperfections with body filler. This, I was told, would be the most important part in the entire process because with black paint every imperfection will be noticeable and, unfortunately, I had a fender bender that had dented the tailgate to about the size of a basketball. After many days of this tedious and somewhat frustrating work, the third step comes into effect, which is to prime the entire car with a simple spray can bought at Wal-mart or Ace Hardware.
With the car body perfected and primed, the final step is to spray the car with paint. The day had come when the painting was done, and the car had been dropped off at my house with its fresh coat of black paint. I came out and took a look at it. At about 40 feet the car looked great. As I approached the car I began to notice that it had the texture that you would see on a really shiny orange peel. I was curious, but my friend reassured me and said that the car will need a final wet-sanding (sanding the car with water or some other type of lubricant) and then will need to be buffed in order to bring out the shine. I was eager to see it perfected so I started the sanding within the next week. Again, it was tedious, but I kept my mind on the final outcome. With the sanding done, I began to buff. That is when I noticed something very disappointing: the car looked clouded and smudgy. The paint was a jet black when it was sprayed on but after the sanding and buffing it looked like a cloudy, imperfect dark grey. My patience just about had it at that point. When I took the car back to my friend’s garage to paint the stripes on the hood, I asked about the disappointing result of the paint, and he simply said that it requires more buffing and everything will turn out fine. This reassured me, as I reminded myself of his extensive background in historic car restoration. Anyway, I began to lay out the tape in order to shape the stripes in an extremely meticulous fashion, which ended up taking a grand total of almost 2 hours to complete. The day ended with him spraying the white and then both of us taking the tape off to reveal a rather astonishing set of stripes that I was indeed proud of.
The next day was Labor Day, a mere two days before I began writing this, and that was the day that changed everything. My father and I devoted all day to giving the car a final buff and attempting to make it look like it should. After about two long hours of buffing the car, it didn’t look any better than when we had started. I was to the point of being infuriated and so was my father, so we decided to take the car to a professional that we had dealt with in the past that we knew to be an excellent painter. When we brought him outside, the first thing he said was, “What happened??” At that point I was full to burst with anger and knew that it wasn’t just me that knew something was up with this paint job. We asked what caused this to happen and how we can fix it. He continued to ask what kind of paint we used. The type of paint was called acrylic enamel which, he told us, was the type of paint that takes 90 days to set properly before sanding and buffing. We waited a week after spraying it to start sanding, and there in lies the problem. He also asked how much we paid for the paint. After we responded, he said rather nonchalantly something that filled me not with anger, but with sadness: “The type of paint you bought is the paint someone would use to paint a dumpster, or a mailbox, or even a car that would be used to take trips to the dump every week.” As horrible and pathetic as I felt, I continued and asked what we should do. “Well, if you did manage to fix this paint job, it would look like crap in about a year, and you’ve already sanded and buffed the heck out of it to the point that about 75% of the layer of black is gone, so it’s simply too thin to work with” continued the man. One specific sentence struck me very hard and will probably stick with me every time I look at that car: “That’s a shame because it seems like you guys meant good and, if it was done right, you could’ve had a show car.” Feeling bad for us and our attempt at making a beautiful car, he offered to re-paint the car for free if we sanded it all to a new, smooth, clean surface and supplied the paint. I immediately took his generous offer and was completely rejuvenated. I actually had hope now, and it felt as though that burden was lifted off my shoulders. I might actually get to see my car the way I pictured it as a child.
This experience has taught me more than I would expect an average person my age to know, which is that if you work and strive for something, and it doesn’t come out the way you expected, it is simply a learning experience and something that a person must go through in order to understand the way the world works. In my case, the experience was with my car. In other’s cases it might be something different, but either way the fact still remains that if it hadn’t happened the way it did, you or I wouldn’t have learned much of anything from the experience.

My Bumper Sticker Philosophy

If I had to create a bumper sticker that modeled my philosophy for life, it would be "Everything Happens for a Reason." As menial and non-profound as this may sound, if you look deeper into what the message is saying, you may find an inner peace that is usually hidden from everyday life. In order to fully understand this life that has been presented to you, one must first delve into the meaning of life and comprehend what it is that we, as humans, are here to do.
Everyone who has lived has experienced tragedy in one way or another, and it always presents itself when we least expect it. In my life, incidents such as this have come more than I would have hoped, and now that I have time to reflect upon these incidents, I cannot help but think that something or someone has predetermined all of this. Once I understood that, I realized that every little thing in our lives has a plan, and nothing is random. A favorite quote of mine coheres well to this philosophy: "Nothing ever truly dies. The universe wastes nothing. Everything is simply transformed."
Even if religion is not one of your strong points (and yes I sometimes have doubts as well), there is truth behind the fact that in the end of your existence here on the earth, it will not matter what happened in your life, only how you lived it. Life will always have sadness or disappointments, but the good feelings will far outway the bad, as they have with me, if one were to live by this philosophy.