Reflections in view of the West Bench

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." ~Confucius

I'm back in Utah for a long weekend. So far I've spent most of my time with Mallie, and I'm going to meet up with John tonight and I'll stay with him for a couple of days. But right now, I'm sitting about half a mile from my old apartment at a Beans & Brews that didn't exist when I left and I'm taking stock of my time spent in this state. With the East Bench at my back and the West Bench looking in at me through floor to ceiling glass panes, I'm reminded strongly of my mornings. So many of my morning drives to work were started with a breath-taking view of the Wasatch front, and more often than not I thanked God for loving me enough to let me live in such a magnificent place. I'm not saying that everything out here is rosy, but I am saying that I used to feel like no matter what came my way, I would persevere in the path that I knew God had laid for me. And that's what I miss more than anything. It's not just the mountains, it's certainly not the food (although there is a new In & Out Burger here.), it's not even really my Utah friends (though I miss them as well, and have been blessed to see them.). None of those are the things from which I can't let go. I miss riding through the troughs and crests of experience as a singular creation. I have come to realize that it is folly to say things like, "I can make it on my own," or "I'm an independent man," or even, "Me and God and that's all." That's not right, and it will lead you down paths that are not only lonely, but that way leads around the mountain again. But it's good to balance the need for peers and those that can hold the mirror to our soul and fleshing out the lessons that God has forged in us through tribulation by trying to stand and walk. And Utah was a wonderful spiritual gymnasium for me. I didn't make all the right decisions and I didn't follow the lead of Love always, but I got to see what "real life" looked like after walking in infantile darkness for the better part of 8 years. And the taste of the "real" was glorious. That's what I miss.

But as I recreate these scenes in my head, a fear is piquing in the depths of my mind. Bonnie told me before I moved back to Oklahoma, "Just remember, Ben, you can never go Home." And although it was a little lost on me at the time as I knew what she meant, but I knew that I was returning to a very comfortable place, her sentiment resonates when I try and think of what it would take to live here again. I wouldn't start with Ab and Brandi this time, my family is still living back in Sooner country, my brothers are on the East Coast. I would be alone again, and that is a hard thing to abide. And although it frustrates me to no end that Milton may have been hitting more close to home than I would care to admit, I don't have a female counterpart with which to share my experiences. And I'm afraid that a place is only as good as the people with which you spend your time. And without a wife, I would only be trading one set of inadequacies for another.

So, at this point there are no regrets for how life has gone in the last three or four years, but there are certainly places I remember, in my life, though some have changed. And I will look to the opportunities of the future, and remember every step of the journey with joy because I know it is perfecting me.

Location:Draper,UT

Thoughts #1

The heights of great men reached and kept,
Were not obtained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept
Were toiling upward in the night.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I find that I have no time anymore during the weeks. My schedule is set from when I get up until the time that I leave work. By that time, I'm too tired to do anything but seek about an hour of repose before retiring to bed. When I do go to bed, in my style, I throw on the West Wing or Boston Legal and watch until I fall asleep, but I have to be honest, lately I find myself only remembering about 5 minutes past the music before I fall into that sweet coma of sleep. I used to get in at least a couple of episodes each night.

I am certainly not unhappy with my current state of being, but I find myself wondering in awe. ME? Benjamin Ryan Suderman? Surely, the guy who used to be defined by trying to get out of work, asking off early, and ALWAYS striving to find ways to work smarter so that he didn't have to work harder is not working extra hours when none are forced. Surely, that must be someone else, who is even now only taking a small break from his work to leave a long awaited post to the multitudes. Who the hell have I become? And the answer comes to me...

Barry Dean Suderman

My father is the main person in my life that has taught me that hard work is not only demanded of man, but is one of the things in life that brings satisfaction. I was made by the hand of God and turns out... He made me to be able to put my head down and go to work. How amazing! I watched my father as a young man, thinking to myself, "Why does he work so much? Doesn't he know that life is not all about work?" I don't know that I've completely turned around on this particular sentiment, but I must say that I at least understand the motivation. It's rewarding!

I think how miserable a job is while watching the clock. All day, "When will it be quitting time?","When do I go on break next?","How long until I can get to the living of life?" Yeah, I know that I'm in the minority on this, and I certainly think that my opinion is my own and do not wish to spread, what I imagine other's would call, my mental disease. But I just don't want to live unsatisfied, and for the time being I've found something that makes me happy. So, yeah...

Rant #2

"Are you crying?" There's no crying in baseball!" -Jimmy Dugan

I understand that there are social rules when it comes to parties. For instance, if Kappa Alpha is throwing a massive kegger and you are on the "outs" with the chapter president, you are not allowed to attend. You can be a dick and try to crash it, but you most certainly do not have the option of showing up, grabbing a cup, pouring a beer, and asking the nearest group of guys how they liked the game last week. Fuck that! You stay home or you find some where else to go, but you don't fuck with social norms. For another example, if you stop by the table of an acquaintance in the cafeteria, and after a couple of minutes of chatter he tells you, "Well, Bro, I don't want to keep you...." You gracefully and quickly bow out. This is not the time to tell him, "No, you aren't keeping me from anything. I have all the time in the world."

Having said this, if an open invitation to a reoccurring event is given, you NEVER have the right to get pissed if you aren't invited EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME! Then, even if the person who gave the open invitation deigns it necessary to invite you again since your feelings have been hurt because you are acting like an annoying, sandy vagina, then you will, under no circumstances, pout at said event. That's just not cool, at all.

(Cooling down....) My suggestion is: Just sack up and go if you want to go, then try to forget any feelings of being slighted that may pop into your agéd, confused little mind, and enjoy yourself. Just chill out a little, and gain some perspective. I promise you, most assuredly that you will have better days, and you will not have to drum off the ear of your significant other with complaints.

But should you not take my advice then I will "strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to" piss me the hell off!

Signs of Civilization

I've finally found it! Civilization has finally manifested itself to me here in the Valley. After seven months of food establishments ranging from "Eh, I guess that this is fine..." to "Geez! This is barely edible!" there is finally an eatery that has distanced itself from the competition. The Wing Coop.

Ab and I went on a Sunday drive, shopping for various items, laughin' back and forth at what the other one had to say. We ended up out on the east bench on our way to the good REI store, when I thought to myself.... "Aaron and Merica told me about a good wing place! We ought to try it out." So, enlisting Ab in the endeavor with the promise of more time to listen to Justice, we headed to our new destination.

The menu was the first indication of restaurant normalcy. Unlike other Utah wing establishments, there were not just 2 flavors of wings. Instead, customers can choose from a veritable bevy of flavors ranging from mild ones that put more stock in different tastes to spicy ones that concentrate on burning out the taster's buds.

So, we ordered just an sampling of the vendor's wares, 5 for me and 5 for Ab, and we sat with anxious anticipation. I was more than willing to acknowledge my own reservations given that, after all, we were still in Salt Lake City, the Land of the Bland. The wait was, I must say, significant.... maybe 10 minutes for our order to arrive, but the time was broken up a little when a group of snowboarders asked the proprietor if he gave discounts to those that had just come from the mountain. Wittily, he answered, "Sure, but you have to prove it. I mean, how do I know you didn't sit at home all day, and you just have a good coat!"

Our order came, Ab's "Black Diamond" and my "Garlic Parmesan." They were heavenly! Finally, a place out here that prepares food in a manner that most other Americans are accustomed. It was as if the clouds parted over the East Bench and a voice came down from the heavens with glory said, "Even though most of you guys out here don't know me, I'm going to put one of the good things in life here, anyway."

Mehwidge

Do I have a fucking sign on my back? Is there a sign back there that says, "please, I am in desperate need to be fixed up?" If there is, please disregard it, and tell your friends. I find that since moving out to Mormon country, everybody I work with or encounter talks about how great it is to be married and how I need to go out and get a wife. Tonight, in fact.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not anti-marriage. I just don't think its necessary for a human being to be attached in co-dependency as soon as fucking possible. I've gotten this for years from my mother and grandma, and bless their hearts, I have nothing against them saying it. But when Milton across five feet of granite says, "Ben, we need to get you a wife. That way you'd always wake up on time." Really? Really Milton? Is that why I need a wife? So I can have a fifth alarm clock? To have someone in the morning with their foot in their back saying, "you need to get up and go to work." Yeah? You need to go fuck yourself. I work sixty hours a week. I think I can show up at nine once.

And now that I've mentioned stupid things said by my coworker, lets move on to the always popular "we need to get you on American Idol, Ben." Thats the last thing in the world I want. I don't want to go up in front of millions of people and be berated by some British bastard. Another Miltonism I hate: "Is your hat on backwards or is your head on backwards?" That's not even funny Milt.

But I digress. I think that given the right circumstances and the right phase of life, a good marriage can be a beautiful thing. But neither of those criteria apply to me right now. So please give it a rest.

Dramatic Media Review: Carnivále

This was a fantastic series. And just to give some idea of the scope of the series. If one were to take the TV show Heroes, and the two books: The Grapes of Wrath, and The Holy Bible, and stick them all in a blender the end result just might be Carnivále. The imagery and editing leave one with the feelings of must having been to a good "burly-q" from the 1930's. The storyline grows through the two seasons at a pretty steady clip and gives the inevitable confrontation between good and bad avatars ample time to decant. And the confusion of good and evil in every character of the movie shows the very strong 'human' element that these carnies seem to have.

That all being said, I must warn as many people as possible not to watch this ABOMINATION of American cinema. And now, I'm going to do you a favor... I don't often do this, but I'm going to save you the trouble of ever seeing this show. I'm going to tell you how it ends. That should be enough "heads-up" babbling for those of you who don't really want to know the ending to have stopped reading so....

Ben kills Brother Justin in the corn field outside of New Canaan. But Sofie finds out that she is the product of Brother Justin raping her mother. Sofie becomes the Omega and shoots Jonesy. Now, we don't know that he's dead as the last we see of him, he slumps against a wall staring at Sofie. The nest scene we find that Ben is still alive but unconscious. And roll the credits.... I'm not kidding. They didn't even attempt to wrap up the story.

This was SO disappointing with Carnivále especially because it was extraordinarily well made. The production value felt hefty. The story was interesting and moved along well. And then they just took the piss at the end of season 2. How disappointing! I'm going to have to regroup before starting another HBO series.

Scotch Review #1: Lagavulin

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds..."
~Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

Color: Dark Amber/ Bronze
Nose: Rich, aromatic, and complex, with gunsmoke, and trawler ropes. Cigar smoke.
Body: Full
Palate: Highly complex. Dried seaweed, perfumed smoke.
Finish: Very long. Smoke, stewed tea.

The Opinion:
I must admit, that since the beginning of my endeavors with Scotch that Lagavulin has been my ever fixéd mark by which I have judged all others. However, my latest experience left me wanting. I am not yet ready to take Lagavulin off of the pedestal on which I have placed it, but it did not stand out amongst the Islay Malts as I remember.

The nose was extraordinary as ever. Particularly, I enjoyed the gunsmoke as compared to the "smokes" of the other South Islays. The palate was pleasurable but I was able to distinguish the seaweed more than I have in the past. Whereas before it was an unnamed quality, this time when the seaweed element stood out, I felt, it mitigated the experience. The finish was once again enchanting and provided for a pleasant evening. Overall, I give it an 8.5.