#TPAD

So, I love going to Buffalo Wild Wings on Thursdays, because their boneless wings are only 60 cents each, and it's amazing.  My favorite wing sauce (right when I typed that, I decided that if you have a really good wing man, you should call them your wing sauce) is Spicy Parmesan.  But I have a problem.  Every time I've gone to BWW, I have bought several wings of three different flavors:  Spicy Parmesan, Thai Curry, and Mango Habanero.  It's just kind of become tradition.  The Mango Habanero tastes SOO GOOD.  But only for like 20 seconds.  From there on out, it just sets your mouth in a blaze of fire that is overwhelming and paralyzing.  I just went again with a friend, and he just sat there uncomfortably as he watched me sniff and cough and cry and hyperventilate...I started choking at one point, and even went almost catatonic for a bit.  Yet, for some reason, I still get the Mango Habanero every time.  IT'S NOT WORTH IT.  I always go home sick and sad and scared.  Our bodies are not meant to go through such trauma.  I tell you this story because the first step is to publicly admit that you have a problem.  So there you go.  I have a problem.  If we ever go to Buffalo Wild Wings together, do not let me get the Mango Habanero, under any circumstances.

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A couple days ago, I woke up, got ready for school, went to work, hopped onto facebook, and I had about 50 notifications...at 9 in the morning.  Much to my surprise, a good number of my friends had either posted on my wall, or just tagged me in their status, telling me how great they believe I am.  Most of them ended with "#pogofoxrocks" and all of them had "#TPAD".  I wasn't really sure what was going on...so I moved on to work on other things I had to do that day.  Half an hour later, I had 40 more notifications.  I don't know who started it, or why in the world it happened, but somehow without my knowledge a random day became "Todd Partridge Appreciation Day."  (By the way, it took me until like 2 o'clock to figure out what TPAD meant.)

And it never slowed down.  Friends from the choir I am in, my cousins, my family, missionaries from my mission, high school acquaintances, friends I haven't seen in 4 or 5 years....they ALL were sending me messages and posting on my wall and sharing pictures of me and naming all the ways that I had been a blessing in their lives.  It was completely overwhelming.  Anyone I saw that day gave me a great big hug and started complimenting me, until I ran off because I "had something to do..."

Went I went to rehearsal that day, there were about 35 handwritten notes and a giant Snickers bar there for me.  No place was safe.  It was crazier than a birthday.  I was under attack of a barrage of love and gratitude everywhere I went.  There was nowhere to hide.  I found myself hiding behind walls and sneaking through hallways to avoid more unnecessary fawning.

And you know what?  It was an incredible day.  I still don't really understand why it happened, but it was incredible.  I heard from friends I haven't spoken to in years, reminding me of times we had had together that I hadn't thought of in a long time.  I had brand new friends highlighting for me ways that I had already influenced their life for the good even in the short amount of time we've known each other.  At the end of the day, I just went home and cried.

Every day I strive to follow even the subtlest suggestions from the Holy Ghost, to know how to bless others' lives, even in minute ways.  But, for the most part, you just have to live by faith that what you're doing is making a difference because it was inspired.  Usually, in the little things, you don't get an opportunity to learn that what you did actually touched someone's heart.  To have a day that suddenly confirmed to me (out of nowhere) that I really can and do make a difference in people's lives was humbling and empowering.

I think it's important for us to know what we have accomplished, what our current abilities are, and what we have the potential to become and do.  Recognizing our strengths isn't prideful.  Believing that we are intrinsically better than others, or that we've become what we are on our own...that's pride.  But deflecting compliments, ignoring your talents, living below your potential so as not to stand out, or claiming to be less than you are...that is also pride.  What would happen if Heavenly Father didn't accept and understand all that He can do?  What if, when we praised Him, He replied with "No, I'm really not that great.  Thank you, but I've really just gotten lucky, I'm not as powerful as you think.  That's really kind, but I actually have a lot more to learn before I could consider myself an expert in that subject"?  What would be the point of a god who couldn't recognize everything that he was?

There would be no point, because that god wouldn't be able to fill the role he had been given power to fill.  It is the same with us.  It's so important for us to help each other see what our strengths are.  Because it's hard to see it in ourselves.  It's easier to see how our fellow beings glow and change the world.  So tell them what it is you've seen them do, because they might not realize it.  And next time you are complimented on the power that you have, be humble and aware enough to accept it, and to use that knowledge to become an even greater asset.  :)

Because of #TPAD, I have a better understanding now that I really can be a positive influence in the lives of the people I love.  Because of #TPAD, I have a greater confidence to move forward and bless people in ways no one else might.  And you know what?  I'm so excited to see what else I can accomplish.

My name is Todd Partridge, and I have a powerful ability to make sure people feel loved.  I have been blessed with an immensely creative mind that helps me serve people in ways no one else thinks of, and that helps me create new environments for people to come together and bond with each other.  I have a deep and unshakable faith in Jesus Christ.  I am so grateful that my ability to gain and retain gospel knowledge is so vast.  I can quickly recognize and understand the hand of angels in my life and the lives of others.  I have an incredibly large number of people that I can truly call my friends, and I am a good friend.  I know that God has given me these talents and abilities so that I can do many great works for Him, and I will not shirk that responsibility.

...Your turn.  Post on your status, or on this blog, or under my facebook post....I don't care...just post somewhere, for the world to see, a humble declaration of what God has given you that makes you powerful.  It will make you think, and it will feel weird, and it might be hard...but your effort to do this will give you a greater confidence and conviction to be a powerful influence in others' lives.  Your post will likely be one of Heavenly Father's favorite ways that you've decided to show gratitude to Him today.  So...what's so special about you?

Can't Touch This

So sometimes I forget that just because I see someone a lot doesn't make us friends... Earlier today, I had my headphones in, and I was listening to "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift (I understand I may be judged for that statement).  I walked into one of the buildings on campus, and saw a girl across the hall that I see every Tuesday and Thursday in a class I facilitate.  We've never spoken to each other...I'm just familiar with her face.  But sometimes I forget and just decide we're friends.  So when I saw her, I pointed at her and then started busting a move to my music for her.  It wasn't until I noticed her very confused and slightly uncomfortable face that I maybe had just done something very weird.

Oops.

I still had fun dancing.

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Speaking of becoming good friends, I've had something on my mind for a while...and we all know that when that happens, I spew it on a blog post.  So here goes:

I don't think we touch enough.

The other day, I decided to hop on the bus to get onto campus just because it was there when I was, and therefore became more convenient.  I got on and decided to stand instead of sit.  At the next stop, a slew of people came on and found seats or stood in the middle near where I was standing.  The bus got crowded enough that a girl was forced to stand directly to my right.  As the bus made its way down the road, a bump caused her to move just enough to slightly graze my arm with her sleeve...after which she immediately said "Sorry!"

This really struck me.  Even though we were in an environment where bumping into one another is not unlikely and is even expected, and even though she really made such little contact I might not even have noticed, she felt the need to apologize to me for accidentally touching my arm.  As I've paid more attention, I've seen that almost anywhere I am, the people that I watch seem hyper-aware of when they are touched or when they touch someone else...and if it's ever on accident, there is immediate apology, or at least an awkward look that communicates "I didn't mean anything by that."

Actually, even when it's intentional, and even if we're told to touch, the general public gets so tense about touching others if they don't know them.  I watch this on the Aggie Shuttle as it picks up people along 800 East.  As we near the end of the route before we get to campus, the bus gets full (well, it looks full).  I see the poor, bundled up students shivering outside as the bus comes up...and the bus driver says "Alright, everyone, scoot back and squeeze together so we can get these people on the bus!"  After very little, half-hearted shuffling, maybe one more person can fit, even though--as I look around--I can see significant space in between every person on the bus still.  They get as close as they can get to each other without actually making contact.  This infuriates me...because if we were all comfortable touching each other, I wouldn't have to sit there and watch the distress in the eyes of the seven shivering people that have to wait for the next bus to come.

Pioneering psychologist Sidney Jourard studied conversations of friends in different parts of the world as they sat in restaurants together.  He observed these conversations for the same amount of time in each of the different countries.  He found that in England, the two friends never touched each other.  In the United States, in the case of large bursts of enthusiasm, we sometimes will touch each other twice.  But in France, two friends touched each other an average of 110 times per hour.  In Puerto Rico, two friends will touch each other nearly 180 times!

I never really liked making physical contact with people for most of my life.  Enough so that my friends, if they were hugging each other as a goodbye before leaving, would go around and hug each friend, but just wave at me, because it was an unspoken understanding that I love you even though I don't touch you.  I don't know why exactly...maybe I had subconsciously related physical touch with purely romantic intentions...or maybe I felt like it showed respect of another person to keep from making unnecessary contact...there could be many reasons.  But I just never really touched people.  Even in my family, we don't really touch each other, so I hadn't really made a firm connection between contact and affection.  It wasn't until I joined a choir where everyone hugged each other all the time (which, frankly, was weird for me), that my physical touch barrier was shattered and I allowed myself the very simple experience of the hug, to greet a friend.  It's been a couple years since then, and now, I can't imagine what life would be like if I didn't hug and grab my friends as part of my expression of my appreciation for their existence!

Touch is not only the primary language of compassion, but is the primary means of spreading compassion.  In recent years, a wave of studies has documented some incredible emotional and physical health benefits that come from touch.  This research is suggesting that touch is truly fundamental to human communication, bonding, and health.  In one study, scientists built a barrier that separated two strangers from each other, through which one person could stick his or her arm through, and wait.  The other person was given a list of a large number of emotions, and they had to try to convey each emotion through a one-second touch to the stranger's forearm.  The person being touched had to guess the emotion.  Given the number of emotions being considered, the odds of guessing the right emotion by chance were about 8 percent.  But remarkably, participants guessed compassion correctly nearly 80 percent of the time.  Gratitude, anger, love, and fear were also guessed correctly 75 percent of the time.  Taking into account that this wasn't even genuine emotion...but a portrayal of emotion on demand...made these results very interesting.

In fact, other research shows that people identify love, gratitude, and compassion from touch--and can differentiate between those kinds of touch--with more accuracy than they can identify and differentiate those emotions through facial or vocal expression.

Benefits of touch start from the moment we are born.  Tiffany Field, a leader in the field of touch, found that preterm newborns who receive just three 15-minute sessions of touch therapy each day for less than 2 weeks gain 47 percent more weight than premature infants who receive just the standard medical treatment.  Historically, an overwhelming percentage of human babies in orphanages where caretakers starved them of touch have failed to grow to their expected height or weight, and have shown behavioral problems.

Touch is what builds up cooperative relationships.  Touch signals safety and trust...it soothes.  Touch calms cardiovascular stress.  A study by Coan and Davidson, psychological researchers, involved people laying in an fMRI brain scanner.  As they anticipated the painful blast of white noise, they showed heightened brain activity associated with threat and stress.  But participants who had someone simply stroke their arm while they waited did not show this reaction at all.  Touch had turned off the threat switch.

Touch even has economic effects, as it promotes trust and generosity.  Psychologist Robert Kurzban had participants play the "prisoner's dilemma" game, where they can choose to either cooperate with a partner for a limited amount of money, or compete with them for a chance at a greater amount of money.  An experimenter gently touched some of the participants with just a quick pat on the back as they were starting to play the game.  And it made a huge difference.  Those who were touched were MUCH more likely to cooperate and share with their partner.

So how in the world have we in our society lost this essential element of human interaction?  Compared with other cultures, we live in a touch-phobic society that has made affection with anyone but loved ones taboo.  Part of it is influenced by religion, as many people grow up learning over and over that touching others can be inappropriate or sinful.  Also, religious or not, this idea is further confirmed through media.  Studies have shown that about 65 percent of times that we witness two people touching in movies, television, internet websites, etc., it is a touch of a sensual/sexual nature.  Of course we are going to be more careful about touching one another when the majority of how we see touch depicted is so biased toward such intimate intentions.

Our increasingly social-media-centralized world is also having an impact.  Not only are we becoming more and more accustomed to communicating with people without being in the same room as them...but we are developing other notions of communication that make us hesitant to touch.  When we e-mail or text or instant-message a friend, there are so many more misunderstandings of emotion or intention behind the words that have been sent.  We are becoming so accustomed to this idea, that we as humans are not very good at effectively communicating how we feel.  This idea leaks into our personal physical interactions with others.  Of course I'm not going to grab my friend by the shoulder, or give someone's arm a squeeze of encouragement, if I'm convinced that people are more likely than not to misinterpret my intentions.  We have lost our trust in our body's ability to utilize and connect in the most reliable form of communication: touch.

The idea of the touch of a man has especially been hyper-sexualized.  Women touch other men and women here in the United States about 70 more times a day than a man will touch another person.  The problem with this incorrect interpretation of a man's touch is especially evident in sports.  When a team of players come together as often as does a football, soccer, or basketball team, in order to become a single working body and work together to find success in threatening and physically challenging environments, it is the body and mind's natural tendency for them to want to touch each other.  The body recognizes touch as a way to increase comradery, boost awareness of each other, elevate trust, create teammate synchrony, and keep the mind and heart calm in demanding situations.  So, the teammates touch each other, plenty.  But, to keep anyone within our out of the team from thinking anything weird, they result to slapping each other.  Male member of sports teams just hit each other, all over the place.  Even when they hug, it tends to be more of a chest bump.  It's ridiculous.  But the need and benefits of touch are so important and natural for success, they do it.  If only athletes could trust each other enough to touch each other normally instead of just smacking each other...how much better would they play together?

So...do something about it.  I dare you.  Go out today and touch someone when you normally wouldn't have.  Obviously, don't be creepy (as you are most likely not used to consistently making contact with general acquaintances or even friends).  But next time you are thanking someone for being your friend, or encouraging them to do something they're nervous about, or assuring them that you understand, or greeting them for the first time that day, or laughing at a joke they told, or thanking them for sharing their sandwich...just touch them.  Pat their shoulder.  Touch their back.  Grab their arm.  Squeeze their wrist.  Put your arm around them.  Rest your hand on their lap.  It will only be weird until you do it.  Then you'll realize how surprisingly normal and fulfilling it is to make contact with your brothers and sisters all over the world.

Let's not be afraid of each other (or ourselves) anymore.  Show true compassion for your neighbors and show them that you're willing to touch them.  Your quality of life will dramatically improve.  Even when I was vehemently against touching...those times where a friend would force me into a hug or who would still grab me and tell me how great I was, meant more than anyone could ever have known.  It is because people were willing to touch me that I gained any of the compassion, acceptance, perceptiveness, and utter joy for the human existence that I have today.

"To touch can be to give life."

-Michelangelo

What's In Your Future?

HUMANS VS. ZOMBIES UPDATE:

I am still alive...However, the outfit Gavin told me to wear today is not very hidden-sock-ball-friendly...so I don't have as fast access to my weapons.  But this morning I was able to walk directly next to a zombie without being detected.  I know it was foolishly risky...but it sure was exciting.  Also, I weep over the loss of my friend Kylie.  I look into her deadened eyes, and I know she is no longer in there.  Just an empty shell...

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So, I've had something on my mind for a while that I feel I can now at least somewhat articulate.  But first...a lightning-fast run-down of my career goals and actions up to this point:

When I was a very small child, I wanted so badly to be an astronaut.  I know that's cliche, but ANTI-GRAVITY.  Once I got to 3rd grade, I was so inspired by my awesome librarian, I wanted to grow up to be the best librarian there ever was.  This started off my obsession with reading...not because I loved it, but because I needed to be a good librarian some day.  That dream stuck until my sophomore year of high school, when I realized I actually wanted to be an English teacher.  I loved the concept of working in a classroom where I could influence students through the discovery of self.  While this seemed my most practical idea, it only lasted until my senior year of high school (ever noticed that your career path choices tend to change faster and faster as we get closer and closer to crunch time?), when my exceptional experience in AP Physics helped me to realize that I love the math and sciences that teach us how the world works.  I very soon after signed up to be placed in the Mechanical Aerospace Engineering program at Utah State.  I added Psychology as a second major once I arrived.  Not because I really knew what I wanted to do, but because I knew I loved both those things.  Two years later, I realized that the MAE program was filled mostly with guys who don't wash their hair or lead interesting lives.  Understanding this wasn't really my scene, I moved to Computer Science (because that makes sense, right?)  That lasted all of one year.  Not wanting to live in a basement for the rest of my life, I made another adjustment.  I decided I wanted to be a Business Psychologist.  And that really felt right.

And here I am...9 months later.  And the career path of "Business Psychologist" still sounds like a very good and practical and rather enjoyable career, where I could do a lot of good in the world.  But as I talk to more and more people, I consistently find that what they really want to do is not what they're planning on doing (even if they won't admit it).  Why is that?  Why do so many of us seem to have these unfulfilled desires that we don't plan on accomplishing?

It's because we're taught not to.  Sure, all growing up we see signs on the walls that say "FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS," and speakers come to our schools and say "YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE! YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO!"  And we all get excited.  Then they give us a list of jobs and tell us to choose which one is our dream.  Or they put us on a computer and have us take a personality test, and then it spits out some of our best career paths based on our answers.  And then some deviant child in your class says that he actually wants to go be a living statue in Las Vegas.  And then he's told that there's not good money in it, or that it's not likely he'll succeed, or that there's nothing you can major in that takes you to that end.  And so, the boy becomes an insurance salesman.  And that girl in the back of the class decided not to mention that she's always wanted to paint airplanes.  She instead becomes a P.E. teacher.

I have some thoughts on this.  This world is changing.  Fast.  At a more rapid technological, international, and intellectual rate than ever before.  When our parents and our grandparents were growing up, the world wasn't in nearly as drastic a state of flux than what we are experiencing.  We really have the ability to define the world.  To redefine the world.  So why do we insist on moving only toward careers that have been laid out for decades?  We need new people, with new ideas and new ways to do things.

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I believe that each of us are born into this world as unique individuals, with specialized talents, both inherent in us, and which Heavenly Father gave us, so that we could be successful here on Earth.  I also understand and believe that most people being born now are of the Tribe of Ephraim (of the Twelve Tribes of Israel), whose duty is to prepare this earth for the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.  So why, when we have strong desires and interests that seem to deviate from the norm, do we question them and set them aside??  Do you not think that those dreams we dream at night are significant?  Do we not trust our very core?

Now is the time of achieving dreams.  I am sure of it.  And you will probably be told you won't succeed, or that no one ever actually does that, or that you should try something safer.  And yes, I understand that deviating from the hard-ingrained ruts of proven successful career paths is harder and more abstract than lawyer/teacher/firefighter/programmer.  But the only reason that people tend to be unsuccessful is because when you decide to go full-speed ahead toward an abstract but thrilling dream, there is the tendency to be reckless and spontaneous.  You still need a plan.  You still need to be smart and gain the right knowledge and resources.  But once you do, there is nothing to stop you from becoming whatever you love.

Really, becoming a Business Psychologist would be great.  But as I look back through my life, and as I look at what I choose to do with my free time, I know that I am a natural-born game-maker.  Board games, group games, role-play games, murder mysteries, mind games...I love them, and I am constantly thinking up new ones.  Sometimes I think what it would be like to live my life thinking up new ways for people to have fun.  And my heart soars!  But then I realize...there's no "Game Design" major.  There's no "Fun Facilitation Expert" career path.  And it's easy to think "Well, that would have been nice,"  and to keep doing whatever my school counselors tell me I should.  But you know what?  This world NEEDS more ways to have fun.  We need more wholesome, family-friendly ways to laugh and experience the world.  And I can do that.  I have that ability.  Should I waste this great gift and drive that I have just because it doesn't have a checkbox on the list of laid-out futures?

No.

And neither should you.  So you want to write influential novels for middle-school students.  So you want to become a fruit vendor in New York.  So you've always wanted to travel to exotic places and write articles for magazines about your experience.  Or you think you'd like to become a professional Ultimate Frisbee player, or to invent "Smart Shoes," or build an interactive Museum of Watering Systems connected to a water park....if only it were possible.  Well it is.  So just go do it, would you?  Bless the world with what's intrinsic about you.

I'm going to be brave and actually follow a dream I have.  What will you do?

Versus Zombies

Also, he wears hand-woven maroon pants.

I'm waiting to go into my Management Information Systems class, which is taught by a fairly neurotic professor.  I substituted as the facilitator in one of his Distance classes one day, and I guess he remembered me, because on the first day of class, he stopped me and told me I looked familiar.  I told him I had facilitated one of his classes last semester.  He hit his head with his palm and said of course that was right, and asked me my name.  Now, ever since, he fawns over me in front of the whole class every day.  Whenever he says something weird, and sees the confused faces of my classmates, he'll just say "Oh, but Todd knows what I'm talking about, don't you Todd?  He was with me for fifteen weeks!  We're buddies.  Todd's probably not even phased anymore.  Todd was such a good facilitator."

Apparently the ONE DAY I literally sat and did nothing in his class, I made a good impression...because I seem to have become an integral part of his life...

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By the way, Humans Vs. Zombies is happening again.  This is my third game.  Superfast Rundown:  HvZ is a campus-wide game of tag.  All but one of the hundreds of players begins as human, going against the one zombie.  Humans must last an entire week and survive long enough for the zombies to starve.  When a zombie touches a human, that human has been "nommed," and they become a zombie.  Zombies must nom a human at least once every 48 hours, or they starve and are out of the game.  It is the most stressful week of the year.  And so much fun.

SURVIVOR'S LOG, SEPTEMBER 23, 2014

The original infected human not only has consistently displayed deteriorating mental ability and ravenous, zombie-like desire for human flesh, but he has already infected almost 100 of my colleagues.  It is becoming increasingly difficult to make it from building to building safely.  Yesterday, I tried to warn as many people as possible of the impending infection, but many didn't listen.  Kjersti and Elizabeth have already been lost.  I had spoken to Kjersti just minutes before she was infected.  She contacted me in tears, telling me to stay away from her if I wanted to live.  I don't know how we are going to survive this apocalyptic experiment-gone-wrong, but it's going to be a long road.  Today, I bravely walk into enemy territory again, in search for a cure, before I lose more people I care about.  I woke up to a new case of ammunition on my desk that my roommate had secured for me.  Ryan has been too sick to go out and battle the lost souls, but this needed act of kindness has already saved me this morning...and I have vowed to protect my friends at all costs.  I only hope I will still have a coherent enough conscious to write again tomorrow.  But I have faith that Humans are the Survivor Race.  And we must be, or this world has found its end.

What's Unheard Of

So, I'm watching a student rummage through his backpack for an excessively long period of time for a pen.  The thing is, it's already become very obvious to me that he doesn't have one...and he knows he doesn't have one.  And yet, here I am watching him pretending like he intends to find a pen in there any second now, just so the professor doesn't get angry with him for not bringing something to write with to class.  Oh, people are silly.

In fact, there are SO many things that we do or situations we end up in, where we will do almost anything to keep something from being said.  The verbalization of a truth or an idea can sometimes terrify us.  I really don't think it is a part of our human nature to remain silent...I think our souls long to communicate with one another, to be open and honest...but culture, fear, insecurity, and expectation cause us so often to inhibit the speaking of the mind, and this causes that awkward or tight feeling in the chest when we're all wondering if someone is going to say something.

Like that moment when you're about to walk past someone, and you both turn to the same side to get around each other.  And then again.  And you both try as hard as possible not to make eye contact, and to make the motion as fluid as possible so everyone can pretend that it didn't really happen.

Or that exhilarating moment when you are found with chocolate on your face, and are asked if you ate the last bit of cake...and some daredevil inside you immediately decides that you mustn't say a word, and give a naive look, just in case they can't figure it out on their own.

Sometimes we even try to use mind powers in the midst of silence, to try to put across a point without verbalizing it, or showing any body language.  Like when you're sitting in a public setting like a class or a meeting, and someone is coming toward you, but you don't want them to sit by you.  You don't make eye contact, but you don't suddenly throw anything you own on the seats next to you or lean over and cover them or shake your head at them as they approach...in fact, you probably don't move at all.  Yet, you can probably relate when I say that you are sending out a great big subtle "DON'T SIT HERE" with your mind that surrounds the area, and pray that they will hopefully subconsciously pick up the signal and veer off in another direction.  We all know it doesn't actually work...but whenever they actually do make a course change, it only encourages us to try our mental game next time as well.

We hold our tongues in courtesy as well.  Like that moment when you're just sitting there minding your own business, and all of a sudden, the person next to you (whom you do not know well or at all) suddenly burps on accident.  It was just loud enough that it was a little startling, but not enough to have made you jump.  Now, while it might be more obvious to turn to them and say "Wow, that was ridiculous," or "Child, please...", you instead just laugh on the inside and pretend like that exceptionally unexpected and gross noise actually wasn't heard by anybody in the room.  And you know what?  While it may be awkward, the embarrassed offender appreciates your lack of acknowledgment.

I've recently found myself at a very consistent loss for words, which has sparked my interest in the subject.  You see, sometimes we are left to silence just because there is nothing to say.  I have this friend (and, as I'm about to explain, probably any time that I talk about "a friend" on my blog, it's probably this person) that I get along with very well.  We've ended up in a lot of the same classes, we work at the same place, are in the same choir, are partners in crime, and much more.  In short, I see this friend an awful lot.  I've noticed recently, as we walk to our next appointment or sit down to lunch, that sometimes hardly a word is said.  It must be very amusing to anyone watching, to see the two of us going around everywhere together without saying anything to each other.  The problem is, what am I supposed to talk about?

"How was your day?"  I know how your day was.  I was there.

"What did you have for lunch?"  Oh wait, I ate that too.

"Got any fun plans this weekend?"  You know, those plans we already have put in motion and are excited about?

"Got your eye on anyone lately?"  Umm...other than the people that I already watch you becoming good friends with and asking out on dates...

I usually can't even start babbling about something new I've been pondering lately, because I've probably already said it.  I have nothing to contribute!  So, in this situation, you start worrying:  they're going to think I'm mad at them or something, because I'm not talking.  They'll think I'm depressed.  They probably wish they could be somewhere else...actually talking to someone.  The other day, I even asked my friend about their feelings about pickles...just because I literally couldn't think of anything to talk about.  So they expressed their feelings about pickles...and then I didn't have any more follow-up questions.  Excellent.  They probably think I'm planning some big scheme to make a sculpture of Zeus out of pickles or something.

I think too often we associate silence with something negative, just because we know that if we're the guy rummaging through our backpack, it means we've messed up...or if we're the ones running into a stranger on the street, it's because things are awkward...or if we've got our hand in the cookie jar, it's because we're trying to deceive someone...or if we're the one walking into class looking for a seat, it means we're not wanted.  Because of these experiences, silence is looked upon as a sign that something is wrong.

But what about the guy who burped??  Your silence was a quiet sign of new friendship!  What about the hush that moves over a congregation as a prophet steps in?  Silence is respect.  9/11?  Silence is remembrance.  The end to tears on the face of the loved one you wrap your arms around?  Silence is relief.  It is love.  It is understanding.

So yes, as I and my friend go about silently, we are communicating something.  It is a silence that says, "I am comfortable here.  I feel accepted by you.  I trust you.  I understand.  Your company is enough.  Your presence is valuable to me.  You don't need to explain yourself.  We act as one."

Silence speaks volumes.  I hope you notice it the next time you encounter it.  Take a moment to explore the depths of the silences you come across this day, tomorrow, and the next.  You may find depths to the human soul you've not yet seen.

Between a Book and a Small Place

So, even though Christmas is long gone now, there are some bits of it that tend to linger for a while.  One of those is the confounded catchy-ness of "Carol of the Bells."  It seems to play on a continuous loop in your subconscious mind for a month after the Christmas season has passed.  My friend and I were walking down the street, and we started singing it...but using the word "Snow" (it was snowing at the time) for every note.  Try it.  It's ridiculously difficult.  BUT JUST YOU WAIT.  My friend and I are going to master it.  And it will blow you away.  ...I hope.

All of my life, keeping weight on my body has always been a chore...one I don't perform as faithfully as I should just because it's so exhausting.  But on the upside, I actually take up a lot less space than it looks like I do (clothing can do wonders to give me more normal-looking proportions...).  It's always been very fun for me to experiment to see if I can find places that no one thinks I could fit into...and then fit in them.  Sometimes, this can get me into trouble.  I have been reminiscing about one such experience I had in high school as I've been going about my day:

One day, I had gotten out of my class a little early, and I needed to go do my daily halfway-through book swap at my locker.  Unfortunately, my locker was waaay out on the outskirts of the high school (which not only led to even less of a social life, but it was so out of my way to get there).  When I got to that empty hallway that no one ever roamed, I started exchanging books from my backpack to my locker and vice versa, when all of a sudden, I realized that I might be just small enough to fit in my locker.  I shoved my backpack into the top shelf, and just kind of stared for a moment, wondering if it was even worth the try.  I gave into the excitement of this new challenge, curled up into a ball, and started squeezing into the narrow metal box.  After a few minutes of wiggling and stretching in inconvenient ways, I had made it in.  Todd, the grand master of small spaces, had done it again!!  I sat there reveling in my achievement, until I heard the janitor coming down the hall.  Well, I certainly didn't want to get caught climbing into my locker, so I stayed motionless as he approached.

SLAM!!

I just kind of sat there in shock.  He hadn't seen me...but he had seen an open locker in an empty hallway, and slammed it shut.

So there I was, trapped in my own locker, with everyone else in the school either in class or on the opposite side of the building.  What was I to do??  I called out a couple times...nothing.  My phone!!  ...One problem.  I am curled up in a ball with almost no wiggle room, with my phone in my seemingly unreachable pocket.  After smashing my face up against the back of the locker, wriggling my arm between my chest and my legs for a couple minutes, and playing the "claw game" with my phone by groping for it with the very tips of my ever-stretching fingers, I got it.

Bad news.  Phone service isn't so great in a metal box.

I tried all the tricks.  After writing a text to my friend Chelsey, I held my phone upside down, I shook it really fast, I sang a straight tone at it, I held it to my head and repeated the ABCs...all the myths.  I finally shot that life-saving text through the one bar of service that I had after ten minutes of trying.  By that time, it was getting really warm in that sweatbox.  Exhausted, I actually started drifting in and out of consciousness as I waited for my rescue.  And then I heard it:

"...Todd?"

I was saved!!

"Chelsey!!  I'm here!  I'm in this locker!!!"

It took her a little longer than I would have hoped to put in my combination because she was laughing so hard, but she got me out all the same.  I was quite grateful.

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That has nothing to do with my life currently, but I just thought you'd appreciate the flashback.  :)