Tuesday, February 28, 2017

February Favorites

1. Star Trek Trexels


This addictive mobile game is just what my Trekkie heart needed. Basically, you are an admiral in charge of staffing a Federation starship. You have to produce resources and spend them on away missions, training officers, and building rooms to make the ship function better. My favorite feature is the ability to add characters from the various Star Trek shows to your ship. My new goal in life is to recreate Voyager within this game. Plus, I play the role of an admiral. Help, I think I've died and gone to Star Trek Heaven.

2. Women and Entrepreneurship


I attended a lecture this month hosted by the Women's Services and Resources office at BYU. Jeanette Bennett, co-founder and editor of several Utah Valley magazines, spoke to us about how her experience as an educated mother drove her to start her own company. She gave us 11 tips on how to succeed and reach our dreams.

  • Be positive. See the good.
  • Be persistent. "Do the thing or bust!"
  • Be passionate. Lose track of time because you love the work you do.
  • Be excellent. Be hard to replace.
  • Be present wherever you are. Minimize distractions.
  • Don't take life too seriously.
  • Defy logic if it's right for you. Act on revelation.
  • Communicate with kindness.
  • Feed your soul.
  • Be you!
  • Trust the Lord.

I never wanted to start a business before, but now I'm giving it serious thought. This line of thinking brings me to my next favorite...

3. The Oregon Trail Card Game


I love games, clearly. Never have I been so close to winning without actually winning, and that distinction is what I love so much about this game! Gameplay is similar to the computer games of ancient yore, with a few exceptions. There are a few things I would have adapted differently from the original games, which only makes me seriously consider starting a game-making business.


4. Recent Changes to My Calling


Why is this unusual subject one of my February favorites? Because attending the training kind of lit of fire in my brain. I walked away with renewed motivation, clear purpose, and new ideas on how to be a better Temple and Family History missionary. That's right: one of the main changes in my stake is that my committee members are now labeled as missionaries, which is exactly what we are for the dead. I have so many ideas to spread the spirit of Elijah; I'll keep you updated on what works.

5. Asset Enrichment Service


A post showed up on my Facebook feed the other day and it directed me to a service opportunity I had never heard of. A few years ago, the Church put out a call for user submissions of writing, art, and photography. Now that they have received thousands of submissions, the Church needs help tagging these resources for people to easily find and use. Basically, you are given a photo with a title and description, and you get to suggest tags that may apply to the photo. It's incredibly easy and fast, but it's clearly a massive project. Crowdsourcing only works with a crowd, right?

Also, as I took the screenshot for this blog post, I couldn't help myself. I had to tag a few pictures before I returned to blogging. It's a little addicting.

6. Writing Excuses Podcast


Because I spend so much time listening to audiobooks, I rarely listen to podcasts. However, the Writing Excuses podcast is the one I return to again and again. The presenters are concise, funny, honest, and brilliant (though they claim to be "not that smart" at the beginning of every podcast). They give excellent advice and writing prompts. When I'm in a writing slump, I simply listen to a single episode of Writing Excuses, and it rekindles my passion for writing.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Sunday Thoughts: Verse

I was recently reading through selected writings of John Rosenberg, former dean of the College of Humanities at BYU, when I came across some interesting etymology. I give all credit to Dr. Rosenberg for pointing this information out.

The word "verse" comes from the Latin root "vertere," meaning "to turn or change direction." When we finish singing a verse of a song, we turn back to the beginning and start again.

This root can also be seen in words like "versus," when people turn against each other, and "reverse," when we turn back in the other direction.

Most importantly, this root can be seen in the word "convert," to turn with someone. In gospel terms, we are truly converted when we turn with Christ, away from the world and toward goodness, righteousness, and eternal life. We change directions, and as President Uchtdorf pointed out in "A Matter of a Few Degrees," we should be making course corrections daily. We should become converted daily. When we err, we should become converted immediately.

Turn with Christ. Isn't that beautiful? And we have a reminder of it every time we sing multiple verses of a hymn.

Good Arguments

I recently had the opportunity to judge a writing contest on campus. Students submitted their best persuasive papers, and I got to read and evaluate 11 of these arguments. I was amazed at the sophistication of both topic choices and writing styles, but I was most impressed by the rhetorical choices the writers made.

This experience got me thinking. We all need to make better rhetorical choices. In our era of instant distribution and charged emotions, it is easy to fire off an argument without thinking too much about who will read it and how they may respond. Through this writing contest, I got to read thoughtful arguments written by millennials, a generation often disparaged for being privileged with such technology and social media. My experience taught me that this generation is actually getting ready to take charge of the future in brilliant ways.

Lessons from millennial rhetoric, or ways to improve your own arguments:

1. Do not spray audience repellent.
To use another insect analogy, you catch more flies with honey. The challenge in arguing is that your audience initially disagrees with you. In some circumstances, they might even be referred to as "the enemy." But your goal in arguing is to remove that misnomer and replace it with "friend." Insulting your audience will not encourage them to believe you or agree with you or befriend you. Instead, identify with your audience and acknowledge their concerns as valid.

2. Appeal to your audience's emotions.
As logical as we like to think we are, we are highly emotional people, especially when trying to persuade each other. Use your word choice, tone, and personal experiences to steer the emotions in a direction favorable to your case. The best papers I read for this contest were structured around the extreme trials of the writers. They elicited my sympathy and, in a twist of logic, proved that they know what they're talking about. Don't underestimate emotions.

3. Serve your audience.
The most powerful argument that I read was basically trying to convince the audience that life will be okay after a loved one dies. This claim brings to mind the baptismal covenant to "mourn with those that mourn [and] comfort those that stand in need of comfort" (Mosiah 18:9). Above all, your argument should serve your audience. I think if you start with that motivation, the Spirit will guide you to say what needs to be said. Your rhetoric will be cleaner, kinder, and more effective. Don't make the audience be the servant; be the servant yourself.

Now, go out into the world and argue. We need arguments in order to discover both truth and Truth (doctrine). We need to know how to make a point without harming someone. We need arguments to collaborate, to get things done, to improve the world. So argue, and argue well.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Lessons from Moana: "But This Does Not Define You"



When I saw Moana in the theater, I sat down front and was covered in salt water by the end of the movie. I blamed my condition on the beautifully animated ocean, but I was actually drowning in my own tears. The movie was sad and joyous and inspiring, and my eyeballs could not handle it. But my brain could! Here is my favorite lesson that I learned from Moana:

Bad things do not define you.

The whole concept of defining a person has interested me for a long time. I pay attention to how people identify themselves. I listen for the words, "I am." I am Bob, or I am tired, or I am the Avatar. Often, in a story, a character will identify themselves in several different ways before the end. Moana, in particular, learns her identity over the course of the movie (as a Disney protagonist should) and then something interesting happens. She discovers the true identity of someone else.

There be soft spoilers in this territory.

Moana sees beyond the scary exterior of an antagonist and sings a chilling song as she realizes what is going on. Speaking of the villain's monstrous appearance, she sings, "But this does not define you. This is not who you are."

The gospel has a similar message. It teaches us that we are eternal beings who lived before this existence and who will live after it. We came from Divinity and we will return to Divinity. But sometimes it is hard to remember that. We lose sight of our true identity and make mistakes. We may even be viewed as monsters. Villains. Bad guys. Sometimes bad things happen to us even when we're doing good things, and they distract us from our potential and our goal. We become antagonists to ourselves. When that happens, we could learn from Moana: This is not who you are. Bad things do not define us.

Instead, how are we defined? Another song provides the answer: I am a Child of God.



So, why don't bad things define us? Whether we are guilty or innocent, don't bad things change us, twist us, transform us? They may alter our perception or our temporary circumstances, but nothing can change our core definition as children of God, as recipients of heavenly and powerful and divine love. Like with physical DNA, our spiritual DNA cannot be undone. Our parentage cannot be reversed. What can be reversed are our mistakes and distractions, the deviance from course. Because of Christ, we can shed our monstrous disguises and become who we were designed to become. He is the source of our hope and the reason we can say, "This does not define me."