Pillows

When you're planning the domestication of your man, be sure to start simple. If you start throwing words out like "pillow shams" or "duvet covers" or (heaven forbid) "Ballet Dress Tutu Bow Holders" you're going to scare him off faster than you can say "Pottery Barn". Instead, start slow. Nobody jumps right into heroin use...that's why they invented marijuana (the "gateway drug"). To introduce your man to the world of civilized interior decoration, you need to wean him of his bad habits (ie: everything he's ever known or done up until this point). One relatively painless way to do this is to introduce him to a "gateway decoration".

A successful gateway decoration is something he's already seen, something he knows...even something he thinks he understands. My suggestion: Pillows. Chances are, your man has already developed a relationship with pillows. He's probably already spent a lot of quality time napping on them, fighting with them, throwing them at people and spinning them on his finger. He sees them as a useful tool and an acceptable weapon in civilized encounters. So you make the innocuous suggestion that "maybe a couple of pillows would look nice on the couch"...and if you've done your job and lured him into a false sense of security, he might even agree. "Sure - pillows sound nice" he says picturing future pillow fights and fondly remembering naps.

You start slow - Rome wasn't built in a day...and it probably took a few years (and thousands of dedicated women) before the Roman empire was completely inundated in pillows (which arguably led to its ultimate downfall. 1-2 should do the trick for starters. The trick is you find pillows that are somewhat masculine. If you can find pillows with ninjas on them - it's worth the investment to lull him into that false sense of security (besides, along everything else he loves, you'll be throwing them away soon enough). From here, add a pillow a week - but never more than 1. Alternate between a throw pillow for the couch and a "decorative" pillow for the bed. (***IMPORTANT NOTE*** - BE SURE TO THROW AWAY ANY RECEIPTS FOR PILLOWS YOU BUY. IF YOU KEEP RECEIPTS, WHEN HE FINALLY FIGURES OUT WHAT'S GOING ON, HE MAY DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE SOME BACK. WITHOUT A RECEIPT, YOUR HANDS ARE TIED.)

By the time he gets wise to the plot, there will hardly be a square inch of living space that is not "accented" by a pillow of some sort. And by then it will be too late. And thus we see that by small and supple things are great things brought to pass.

Living With a Girl

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However, if the aforementioned man were made aware of the effect such a wife would have on his "good fortune", not to mention his wardrobe, eating habits, manly decorations, waistline, television watching habits and aspirations to become either a ninja or a professional athlete...it should be fairly easy to convince him that it might be a better idea to be "in want" of something else - like a puppy, or a housekeeper or a rattlesnake. Alas, such a man in the throes of passion would surely ignore any such warnings and continue to skip merrily towards that brave new world of marriage.

They say that before a horse can be of any use, it must be broken. So in order to create something "useful", you must first take this wild creature, with all of its desires, hopes and dreams...and carefully and systematically crush its will. I've often wondered, if the poor beast could talk, what he might say in the midst of this cruel process. I imagine that a broken horse remembers very little about its previous life. A broken horse would have little more than a hazy recollection of hanging with its horse-bros or staying out past 10pm. It has indeed become something new and different...but if we could somehow capture his thoughts before the transformation is complete - what might we learn?

I've been told that the first year of marriage is a lot like that period of horse breaking. This wild creature is taken and confined and then carefully and systematically its will is broken...so that eventually it can be of some use. Right ladies? Spoiler alert: when most women look at potential mates, they're looking for potential - they're not looking for a finished product. In fact, women get the same look in their eye at the sight of an unbroken male that a man might get if he were to find an old broken down '67 stingray for $500. "Wow! This is going to be AMAZING...in four or five years" they both think as they rush to their respective acquisitions. And when the purchase is made and the vows exchanged, the gifts neatly stowed and the thank yous mailed out...when the man and the woman move in together in marital bliss...like a symphony at the first waves of a conductor's hand, the process of breaking begins.

And so I begin my triumphant return to the world of blogging. If anyone is still reading this after many, many months of silence, you're in luck. For the first time in recorded history, you'll get a firsthand look at this process from the perspective of the horse. The beast will open his mouth and speak from this no-man's land - neither completely wild nor completely tame; no longer "free" per se, but not yet broken.

September and Everything After

When you get engaged - so many other aspects of your life get put on hold. Not least among these is blogging - well, at least until you start having children and have nothing better to do than chronicle your life for the entertainment of all of your friends with children and blogs and inordinate amounts of free time.

I apologize for the haitus...and must warn that it will, most likely happen again and again and again...

Also - please don't take this entry as evidence of any pregnancy. We've taken many, often overlapping precautions against such a joyous event. I just wanted to take a moment to catch anyone out there who's still reading up on my life over the past few months.

On September 13th, I took this beautiful girl to the Newport Beach Temple and married her forever.

FYI - they're completely right when they say that this day passes by in the blink of an eye. One minute I'm eating a delicious cinnamon treat with my brother Scot in front of the temple...and then, in a blur of family, friends, pictures, food, and dancing I'm carrying my bride across the threshold of our little 1 bedroom apartment and the thousands of dollars and millions of hours of preparation have cumulated in this new life...which - two months in, I'm still only beginning to comprehend.

We honeymooned in the Dominican Republic - and spent a week doing absolutely nothing...which was fantastic.

And now we're back home and back in the swing of things...getting used to our new ward (FYI - for those of you still in singles' wards - the weirdest thing about going back to a family ward isn't all the children - it's the old people). We're pretty much engrossed in the process of learning how to live with someone of the opposite sex and everything that comes with being married.

In other news - Obama got elected to the presidency. That's right, you heard it here first...tell your friends. I didn't vote for him...but sitting on the couch, listening to his victory speech, I couldn't help but feel some of that excitement. Love him or hate him, he has brought a lot of positive energy into this country at a much needed time. I'm excited to see what he'll do...and while my tone may change in the months and years to come, on 11/4/08, I couldn't help but feel this enormous pride to be an American.

Also - Prop 8 passed. I'll save my commentary on that one for another entry...

More to come in the weeks (but probably the months) to come. I hope you'll all keep checking for updates at least semi-annually. I promise I'll try not to disappoint.

What's new...

Well hello there. You're still coming here, huh? I'll be honest...I don't get you...I mean this kid hasn't posted anything in the past five years or so...and yet here you are sniffing around like a lost puppy looking for home. Seriously...where's the self respect?

So what's new in the sometimes interesting life of David? Well, I'm glad you asked, because there are definitely a few things I've been meaning to tell you about.

First of all, I finally broke down and bought myself a pair of those noise-cancelling headphones. Before you start laughing, let me explain. I was once like you. "How can a mere set of headphones cancel noise? That's just silly...that David's just chasing another fad." I've had some decent headphones in my day and while they've overpowered the noise, there has been no cancellation. Well, brothers and sisters...what can I say? I'm a believer. Pop these bad boys in your ears and it's as if noise ceases to exist. They're magnificent.

Okay, next - you know when you're out shopping and you find an item that screams your name and won't stop screaming until you purchase them? Well friends, I was cruising the aisles of Marshall's recently (oh, come on - don't pretend you've never done it) and in the shoe aisle I found what was for me the holy grail of shoes...that's right folks - white loafers. Now I know what you're saying: "____(fill in the blank with some witty comment worthy of you)_____". But I'm here to tell you that white loafers are the FUTURE...not the past. Trust me on this one, go and buy a pair today. You can thank me later.

Hmmm...what else? Um...well, maybe that's it. I won't bore you with the story of the windshield wiper insert that would not fit (I'm advocating the death penalty for South Coast Acura's entire "Parts" department). So I guess I'll sign off...

Oh wait...

That's right...I knew I was forgetting something - I got engaged.

So in the interest of those of you who haven't yet dragged the story out of me, I've decided to post the details here in two convenient versions (male and female) so that if any of my friends ask me about it, I can direct them to the blog. It's all about efficiency with me kids.

To uphold the ladies' first tradition, I'll start with the female version of the story (fellas - please skip to the end. I'm doing this for your own good):

Twenty seven years and eight months ago I was born to a loving mother and father... Oh, wait...you don't want that much detail? Right, okay.
So a couple of years ago I was dating a girl...let's call her Guadalupe (Lupe for short). Now Guadalupe was a really cool girl, we had a great time together. But, as often happens when relationships don't work out...we broke up.
Fast forward a year and a half or so to the beginning of this year and I got a call from Lupe's brother "Admiral McAwesome". The Admiral asks if I'm dating anyone, and while I'm flattered that he's interested, I'm a bit confused since he's already married to a woman and all... So he continues to tell me about how, back when I was dating his sister, there was this other girl who he really thought that I should date. Odd, I know. So after ensuring that Guadalupe wouldn't be upset, I agreed to the setup.
Enter - logistical problems, schedule conflicts and a boy named "Johnny Idaho" who was kind of busy dating this young lady.
So, a few months later, the stars aligned, Taurus was rising in Leo's third phase (or some other such nonsense) and the blind date was planned an executed.
Now it's been a fun little courtship - the kind where you hang out in the car after dates (the front seat, not the back you perv) and just talk for hours and hours, the kind where you laugh and laugh and cancel your gym membership because hanging with this girl is a better ab workout than anything else you've ever found, the kind where you finally feel that things are "just different"...and for the first time, you know what all those annoying married people meant when they said "You'll just know" or "It'll just feel different".
I knew after about a month that I wanted to marry this girl. I even wrote it in my journal (yeah, I keep one of those too...and no, you can't read it). A month or so after this realization, we talked about it...and I was relieved to find out that she felt the same way. So before rings were bought or questions popped, we started telling the entire world what we'd discovered. To have kept something like that quiet would have been tantamount to finding the cure for cancer and not telling a soul...it just wasn't happening.
But eventually (after just about everyone already knew), a ring was bought and a trip planned to Brazil (in separate transactions). Now, if you ask her today, she'll tell you that she really didn't think that I'd propose there. I'm not sure I believe that...but I love her for lying.
Brazil was a blog entry unto itself. Midway through the trip we went to Iguacu Falls:(not bad, eh?)

We got to a point about here:

And Vanessa started tearing up because "it's just so beautiful" (apparently seeing beautiful things makes women so angry that they burst into tears. It's a natural defense mechanism...if not for the tears, they would burst into flames...the tears are just to keep things under control...but i digress). I've always been told that the best time to propose is when the girl's crying...because the tears actually make the diamond look bigger. So I shakily removed the ring from its strategic hiding place (switzerland) (not really) - my pocket, got down on one knee and (the cameras pan away, the music rises and........magic).

Then some tourists came and took this picture:

Afterwards it rained about 400 kilometers of water on us (Brazil uses the metric system...for you yanks, that's about the equivalent of Lake Powell).

Oh...and she said yes.

And that's that.

Oh...one more thing. I know the women-folk need to see this or I'll be in huge trouble:

This is the actual size (unless you're reading my blog on your phone in which case you must be in a REALLY long line...or perhaps stuck in traffic). Vanessa has very, very large fingers - they're one of the many reasons I love her.

Wow...that was actually much MORE painful and time consuming than I thought it would be...I don't know how you women do it.

Male Version:

So I took her to Brazil and there are these really cool waterfalls there...so when we got there i proposed.

And now finally my mom can find something else to fast for.

Fortune-ately I'm keeping track

Luckily for you, when I eat a fortune cookie, I hang onto that little slip of paper inside. I know, I know...many of you think that's just plain silly. What do those delicious cookies know anyway...right? Wrong.

I'd like to share with you (my diminishing readership) some of the gems that have been hidden away in my wallet until quite recently. You may want to keep reading, after all...some of these may involve you...or someone you know...or me:

YOU OR A CLOSE FRIEND WILL BE MARRIED WITHIN A YEAR
See, I told you you'd want to keep reading. That's right my friends...it might be me...it might be you. It might be any one of my fifty million Mormon friends out there who've actually taken that step within the past three or four weeks. That's the wonderment (yes, that's areal word) of the fortune cookie. Somehow it KNOWS that within the span of a mere 365 days, someone's gonna tie the knot. Magical. Look out ladies, cuz I don't need game when I've got a fortune like that in my back pocket.

YOU DESERVE RESPECT AND WILL GET IT
Damn right I will (sorry for the profanity Mom, but you know how fortune cookie talk gets me riled up). So now that the fortune cookie gods have decreed it, I think it's time you and I came to a mutual understanding of what it means to respect David Keithly. I've taken the liberty of drawing up a short list:
1. It's always appropriate to bow when I enter a room. While I don't expect you to prostrate yourself on the ground (I don't discourage it either), a simple bow from the waist will suffice. Try to pass off a head-nod as a bow and I hope you're feeling brave...and lucky. And I also hope you have a fortune that says something about staring death in the face and walking away...
2. Appropriate titles for David Keithly include (but are not necessarily limited to: my lord, my liege, oh enlightened one, admiral, fantastico, commodore or chuck norris.
3. Friendship dues are due by the first of the month or said friendship will be suspended. No exceptions. No extensions. No refunds.
4. Stay away from my frozen hoho's.

AN OLD FRIEND WILL INTRODUCE YOU TO NEW PEOPLE AND PLEASURES
Here's the homework assignment for this blog entry - if you've known me for longer than 7 months, you'd better get on this one. It's not really up to me HOW you're going to do it...or even WHAT you're going to do. Be creative...and remember that the fortune cookie gods are watching.

AMONG THE LUCKY, YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE
Proof positive:

I like to update my blog at night...generally well past midnight (which is probably the closest I'll ever come to actual intoxication). There's nothing quite like a Dr. Seuss movie (oh yes, I did) and a crepe to make me wax contemplative in the wee hours of the morn'.

These past couple of weeks have been extremely eventful - I met a girl (yay!), separated my shoulder (boo!), my baby sister got married, a good friend "came out" to me and another good friend is tying the knot ten short hours from now (and then there were two).

There are so many fantastic things about meeting someone new. I love the awkwardness of first dates and doorstep scenes. I love knocking on the door for the first time and getting that sudden, gut wrenching feeling that suddenly your skin doesn't fit right. And yes...sometimes it can be exhausting to get to know someone new - to fill them in on all of your quirks and idiosyncrasies...but then sometimes it can feel like you're Columbus stumbling his way onto the American shore for the first time. You wonder - "how could I have lived this long, so close to something this amazing, without ever knowing it?" I love the talking in cars after the dinners or movies, the awkward phone calls where you're never quite sure what to say but still end up talking for hours. Most of all I love the (treacherous?) hope that rises unbidden from somewhere deep within. It's the same hope that robs me of confidence and propels me forward into....?

Shoulders were not meant to be separated...in fact, I've come to believe that shoulders were meant to be left entirely alone. There should be no tearing, dislocating or otherwise misusing this joint unless you plan on never changing clothes, or really ever moving that region of your body, again. But, if you're like me and you do stupid things occasionally and end up messing things up - I would advise you to pray for Vicodin.

The one good thing about separating your shoulder though is that you'll DEFINITELY stand out in your sister's wedding pictures. ("Who's the idiot with the arm brace?") Shortly after said shoulder injury, my baby sister got hitched. For me, the hardest part of the entire process is watching the photo-montage that they put together. You know the one - there's a country song playing in the background while the bride and groom blossom before your eyes blah blah blah. I thought I'd seen enough of these to be forever immuned to their tear-jerking ways...but then I saw my baby sister on the screen. It's different when the little girl on the screen is still a little girl in your mind...when you remember that easter dress or the fabulous 80s hairstyle. It's somehow different when you remember the baby, the little girl, the young woman...and somehow difficult to put all of those memories into the beautiful bride you see dancing with her new partner - and realize that your baby sister is all grown up. I love that little girl, and I'm so proud of what she's grown into.

You're going to have to wait to hear the rest because my Nutella-induced melancholy has faded - but rest assured that the next time sugar and I meet late at night, you'll find our love child in the words of this blog shortly thereafter.

Thoughts, a sad tale and a dash of Shakespeare

I realize that it's been a little while since my last entry...and I have a very good explanation for my absence - I'm a lazy S.O.B. who would rather watch old episodes of "Scrubs" than blog. (For other sad facts about the writer, please visit scotkeithly.blogspot.com and check out the latest post). Also - I don't think I had a single interesting thought during the past couple of weeks...and there's really nothing worse than listening to nonsensical ramblings by those with nothing better to do than rant at the expense of you, the poor, unsuspecting reader (again, see scotkeithly.blogspot.com).

A friend of mine (who, in order to protect myself, will remain nameless) had an interesting experience on Saturday night.

This young lady recently got out of a pretty serious relationship, and has been suffering from the after-shocks of lost love. Luckily, she's a cutie, and the gentlemen (and others) just can't seem to get enough of her...so she hasn't been sitting at home alone on the weekends. She even started moving towards serious with a certain young man. unfortunately, like many of us who have felt the fury of a hot stove...she's afraid of getting burned again, especially with scars that are just now beginning to heal.
So our little friend told semi-serious boy that she wasn't ready for anything REALLY serious...and wanted to date around. He, being a pretty understanding guy, was fine with that as soon as she promised not to kiss any of these others.
But then Saturday night came along (as it tends to do) and with it a smooth young man with a silver tongue and lightning quick texting thumbs. And later on that same evening, our little friend found herself in his sculpted arms.
Unfortunately, chaste reader, we must leave them there...and pick up our tale on the following evening.
Semi-serious boy came to pick up our little friend and spend an enchanting evening by the sea - gazing into each others' eyes and whispering sugar-coated nothings into each others' ears. But the light of the setting sun revealed more than the love in our little friend's eyes...it also revealed a little (actually, quite big) something that the sculpted, silver-tongued young man left behind a few degrees north of her collarbone.
"what's that?" semi-serious asked? and, faithful reader, that was the end of the magic on that fateful evening by the sea.

The next day our little friend lamented her lasciviousness and her loss, but could not (no matter how hard your persistent penman pressed) come up with a reason for her lapse. Instead she bemoaned her semi-beloved's departure and cursed her folly.

When I finally found the fortitude to forego my fit of fun (at our fair little friend's expense), I was reminded of a bit of shakespeare that I had memorized in jr high that seemed particularly fitting under the circumstances. This passage comes from The Rape of Lucrece:

What win I if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?

So enough with the olde english and alliteration. In this passage, Billy explains why so many of us are moral. In the end, who would destroy an entire vine in order to eat one grape? It seems like a foolish thing to do. And while it would be overstatement to accuse our little friend of such a gross misdemeanor, in a small way, that's exactly what she did. And it's the same thing so many of us do so often. We allow ourselves to live so much in the moment that we forget that life is made up of such moments. Life is, in fact, a compilation of millions and millions of moments, the vast majority of which mean almost nothing. But every now and then we come across moments that determine who we are. And in those moments, we simply cannot afford to sell eternity...no matter how shiny the toy.