Quotes of the Day

Guest lecturers are, most of the time, amazing. And today did not disappoint. My Plants and Society (a.k.a. by me as Botany) is usually an interesting class, that I only ever sleep in once in a great while. Today was definitely not a sleeping day.

Fred Montague, Ph.D, Professor Emeritus of Biology came to speak. The lecture was aptly named, “Things to Think About: The Global Imperative for Sustainable Agriculture.” 

I could have listened to this man speak for hours. I am sure he didn’t even make it through half of what he wanted to say, but what he did say was necessary and almost seemed like it was mandatory to absorb and think about.

I cannot even begin to explain what he talked about because it was such an intricate topic. But I do have a few jewel quotes that stood out to me throughout his conversation with our class.

“Nobody is evil, people are just living out their 

world view. That’s why stories are so important.”

“[There are] two great celebrations in life. 

One is birth. The other is death.”

“That’s where we could grow the grasses [corn,

 wheat, and the like] that domesticated people.”

If you are ever given the opportunity to listen to a lecture by Professor Montague, I implore you to go to it.

Note: When I say today, that doesn’t necessarily mean the same day that I’m posting. I know that this is too much information, but it isn’t entirely useless.

Descriptions

Again with the time! Always midnight before I know it. 

I guess it is time to let you know the “Who” of this blog. I, personally, do not give much credit to anonymous written works. They were definitely written by someone, but that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. Actually, even when I do know the “Who,” I’m not much inclined to care.

Anyway, on with it then.

I could start with my name: Jesse. That is who I am. On paper, I am Jesse E. Sheets. The United States government views me as a nine-digit number. That is also part of who I am. I am also a place. Moab. My hometown. The place of happiness, the place of my memories, but also a place of pain and remembrance. I am considered to be (firstly) a son, then a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a boyfriend, a friend, a best friend, a confidant, and sometimes an individual. Again, these are all very good descriptors, but I still haven’t told you who I am. 

To answer that question, you will have to follow my blog. I am still on the road to the city of “Who-i-am.”

I am a student. A student of life, yes, but also a student at heart as well. Learning gives me hope and sets me at peace. I could not get through each day without learning. For the past few months, I have been learning French. That is a task in itself, but again a joyous experience. For the past year, I have been a student of ceramics. No, I’m not an Art major, but it is definitely a passion. For the past two years, I have studied the daily actions and observed the “little things” as a boyfriend. English, most of the time, doesn’t have the right words to explain things. Yes, I am her boyfriend, but I believe I am so much more to her. It will be two years to the day on March 31 that I have been studying to become what she needs me to be. And for my life, I have been studying the (sometimes demented) English language. I’m sure that you have noticed that I still haven’t gotten that area of study nailed down.

Descriptors aren’t my strong suit. By those I love and value, I have been called “Retard,” “Odd,” “Sarcastic,” and even “Sadistic.” I smile as I write this, because only one of those was said with any malice. I have been known to be “docile” as well as “quick-tempered.” Of course, description varies with knowledge. 

At a glance, I’m not much. If someone were to give a quick review it might go something like this:

“Mr. Sheets. What is there to say. He keeps his nose down, quiet, docile young man with some interests that aren’t well defined. He does good in school, but he does not ask questions. He is well-mannered and polite, sometimes even apologetic. He does not seem like the zealous sort, nor does he fit the description of outgoing.”

Again, description comes from knowledge. My friends have complained of my apologetic ways. Other friends have found it entertaining to see how quickly they can make me blush. What can I say? I’m a blusher. It is entertaining to see what they come up with. Others would approach my description as timid and shy. While still others could say that I’m charismatic and even outspoken. 

Macey and Me

Apart from descriptions are names. I have been know as Jes for a long time. That is for people that are close to me. When I played sports (fun fact), I was known as “Bulldog,” though it never seemed to apply. My manager knows me as “Fledgling.” She usually includes a sing-song “Fledgy,” and sometimes looks at me like I’m adorable. (This, in turn, usually makes me blush.) My sister (only sibling) liked to annoy me by calling me “Girlfriend.” Now she resorts to “Brah” as her mainstay. My girlfriend, Macey, has many names for me. Some more loving than the others: Sweetheart, Honey, Sweetie. Then there are the ones like Buttmunch, Buttface, and other creative twists that are only ever said with loving sarcasm.

Hmmm…

Jack

I have one sister. Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and an assortment of family members that aren’t related. I am the proud owner of a Boston Terrier named Jack. But I also love his mom, Maggie. My sister has always had a menagerie of pets, from chickens to goats to snakes to birds to cats. Her current kitten, named Primm, but nicknamed by my Nana as El Gato Diablo Psycho. Fortunately, my sister and Primm have similar personalities, so they get along just fine. I have also been adopted by at least two people as their surrogate son, and I have become the “little brother I’ve always wanted.”

I could go on and on, but I won’t. I’m sure no one will read this far down the page anyway. I am a singular entity on this vast planet that is searching for his niche. 

I’ll let you know if I ever find it.

Midnight.

Midnight. The tween time. The time of the witching, the time of magic, the time when I realize that I should’ve gone to bed two hours ago. But, I know that I will be up for at least another hour because I miss my friends in the early morning hours. One, Two and I sometimes become reacquainted with Three.

Personally, midnight is also the best time for beginnings. It is the best time to start up something without stress. It is the best time to begin the unachievable goal of writing for myself. Even now, as the city lights glow outside of my window and the darkness presses in around the lights, I know that it will be immensely difficult to keep up with this “blog.” But I will do my best.

I guess the best place to start would be to ask why a blog? Why write everything down into a place that literally millions of people have access to each day. I guess the best way to answer that question is because I can. There isn’t anything stopping me from telling the world about my day. The world doesn’t have to listen, but I know that I have invested that much more time into improving myself and allowing little bits of myself to slip through the cracks, the facade, and into the waiting abyss.

"A journey of a thousand miles
must begin with a single step."
--Lao Tzu

I also feel that the media of written work reaches farther than anything else could. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and yes that may be true, but let’s also say that there is no picture. There is no other way to express how I feel, how my day went, unless I write it down. Each blog could be a thousand words. A thousand meticulously placed words ready to describe any scenario, any picture, any moment that I want them to.

This leads me back to beginnings. The beginning of life is a screaming child, slimed and kicking ready (or not) to take on the world. The beginning of a vacation (at least in my family) is a flurry of packing and raised tempers. The beginning of the universe (some say) was a momentous explosion (the hand of God?) that rippled through the … “nothingness” and made new what had not been before.

My beginning will be quiet. Words uttered in the silence of my mind. No congratulatory cigar, no champagne christening, no ballroom masquerade. Just the words of beginning that cannot be hindered. The words that can escape like smoke through fingers. Melt hearts like a warm knife through butter. Mend wounds faster than any physician. Break hearts in a matter of seconds. And secure love (long lasting) in a few lines. 

Words are the most powerful and wonderful thing to own. There is a certain responsibility that comes with embracing words as the chosen media. I am now responsible for every utterance. Every syllable. Even if only one or two people ever read this, I am responsible for what they read, and I am responsible for the reaction it evokes. Humans (most at least) have this happy responsibility. We must make the decision each day. We must be responsible for what is said, what is written, and what it means.

So, this is the beginning. A new, wonderful, powerful beginning to a fresh look at the world. The world that I will describe through my own interpretations as I see it. Everything should be taken with a grain of salt (or maybe a salt shaker).

The world is waiting to be explored, and I cannot wait for adventure.