Alright, because I was tagged and I'm incapable of backing down from a challenge, I've got my eight questions and answers for all of my adoring fans. Comments please, because I like to know that I'm more correct about everything than anyone else in the world.

1. Why is there such an abundance of abysmal grammar and vocabulary, even among educated people?
Because people don't read enough anymore. Now that we have television and movies and video games available for download, people just aren't inclined to pick up a book and read the little letters on the pages. In addition to the epidemic of illiteracy, we have a society that allows people to be less than they are capable of. We should stop this.

2. Why do we define home as where our parents live?
For me, the answer is simple: my mother is a good cook and my dad gives me money. I don't meant to sound like a materialistic swine, but home, at it's very rudimentary level, represents the safest you can feel, and for me, not having to worry about money or food.

3. Why on earth do men say they want someone capable and independent, but those of us women who actually are all those things don't get second dates?
I don't really have an answer for this one. I'm sorry; I know that means I didn't follow the rules and will probably get marked down on this assignment.

4. Why is the deposit for the electric company twice the monthly average?
It would seem to me that requiring the monthly average, or better yet, the monthly mode, would make more sense than requiring me to pay a deposit that will probably pay the electricity that I would use for two and a half months.

5. What do I want to be when I grow up?
I'm thinking an emergency room physician in a large urban area. I like being able to interact with real people with real problems. Are there other good options?

6. In today's information age, why do people complain of boredom?
When I was a small child and I would complain that I was bored, my dad would tell me that smart people don't get bored. When I was three, I found this advice frustrating, but as an adult, it as served me well. I don't understand why people can't read a book or check their email or write a paper or write a letter to their congressman or senator or to our troops overseas. There are countless things to do.

7. What's so wrong with Harry Potter?
I've read all the books. I've seen all the movies. I understand that it's about sorcery. I understand that they use the word witch. I understand that there is good magic and bad magic. I do not understand why so many Christians are in an uproar over Harry Potter, when these same people watch/read Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, all of the books about Merlin. Don't those have magic? Don't those have good and evil?

8. Gas companies are turning their largest profits ever, even proportionally speaking. Why aren't we doing anything about it?
I'm tired of being gouged at the pump. I drive a reasonable car. I generally don't make unnecessary trips all alone. I probably spend $200 on gas a month. This seems ridiculous. While I have no serious knowledge of economics, it seems inappropriate to me that we are allowing the monopoly to continue. Why are we letting the boards of directors be the same for all of the major gas companies, and why are we allowing them to continue to jack prices up? Alright, that's signifigantly more question than answer. You'll all probably live.

There you go. The eight questions I could come up with tonight. Perhaps I'll start asking and answering a question a week. That way they can have more substance than tonight's rather lengthy set.

For most of my life, I have had a cousin that is a member of the Oklahoma City Police Department. Since I was old enough to understand what it meant, I've wanted to ride with him and see what it's actually like, and more to the point, see how different my cop shows are from reality. This past weekend, I got my chance.

First things first, I had to sign a form insuring everyone involved that I and my family would not hold the OKCPD responsible for any injuries or death sustained while voluntarily participating in the night's events. Then I got to actually have fun. Because I have elderly woman tendencies, I'm usually in bed before my cousin even picked me up for the night, so I got to see a side of life that I'm most unfamiliar with. His beat, if you can call it that since as a Lieutenant he is no longer required to run patrol, covers the northern quadrant of Oklahoma City, which includes downtown, the red light district, and the northern side of the park along the lake.

He spent most of the night apoligizing to me for the slowness of the evening, but in fact I was enamored. I had no idea that people called the police for so many things. I had no idea that so many people were out so late at night. I had no idea what the inside of a cop car looked like and I was thoroughly amazed at my cousin's ability to type and drive. I saw an incredible number of drunk people, including one man who had managed to become so intoxicated that he was roaming around his apartment complex in his tighty-whities. We also saw some people having sex in public. I was embarassed, but apparently that's old hat for a veteran cop.

The evening was all fun and games and hanging out with my cousin until he answered a call made by a six year old boy to the police dispatcher. Apparently his mother had left him and his 2 year old sister home alone so that she could go partying. That's the first time in my life that it's ever been made abundantly clear to me that people leave their children and for the life of me I can't figure out why. Ultimately the children were as squared away as possible when the cops have to come to your house and I was proud of my cousin and the rest of the officers that dealt with the situation.

What struck me the most when I was out with him this weekend was the sheer amount of incidents and crimes that a good police department prevents during the night. Most of the things that I saw, I was largely unaware ever happened. Of course, that also speaks to my ignorance, but more than that, it speaks to the vast amout of things that could happen to me that don't because of someone's vigilance. Most of my adult life, which is admittedly very short, I've seen cops as people who pull me over for speeding and write me tickets, but I was given a new viewpoint this weekend. While I have no real desire to be a cop because dealing with unsavory people frightens me, I've been given a newfound respect for police officers. And, I was given a topic and quite a few useful anecdotes for my ethics paper, whose rough draft is due on friday.

In other news, I'm now the owner of season three of House M.D. You may all be quite jealous now.

Coming soon:
1. A post about giving in the Church and why we've probably got it all wrong.
2. An essay I was supposed to write during my junior year of high school on the Scarlet Letter. So if you read this Mrs. Story, is it too late to turn it in?
3. A blog about education in America.

But for today, we have this: Go Colts!!!!!!

Finals are over.

Finals are over and like every semester I wonder what on earth I was thinking. Who knew that it could be that challenging to take a full load of chemistry and physics and math classes? Carson asked me to blog about the differences between finals in high school and finals and college, so here you go.

1. In high school, particularly in a private high school like the one I attended, there are reviews. There are reviews during class, there are reviews at the teacher's house where they kindly serve you food and soothe your anxieties, there are reviews the day before the final, and there are reviews on Sunday nights at the school building. In college there are tests. There's the admonition to study your old tests and notes and examples in the books and the examples worked in class. There might be a response to your email that you frantically sent in the wee hours of the morning before the final. That response will probably tell you to study your old tests.

2. In high school there pats on the shoulder and answered questions and concerned smiles and even the occasional hug. In college your professor doesn't know your name, much less know that you're so worried about your performance that you've had dry heaves because you know that you have to have this class for your degree and that it's not offered until the next spring of an odd year and you're barely hanging onto a C.

3. In high school it is virtually impossible for one test, even a final, to cause you to fail the course. In college, it is highly likely that one test, especially the final, can ruin your grade, thereby ruining your GPA and your plans for graduation.

In four years of high school, I never received less than a B in a class. I also never studied for longer than three hours for an exam and I never had whole weeks where I subsisted on coffee, diet coke, and whatever random bits of food were in my fridge. In college I have definitely received less than a B and I have had long stretches were food came in third or fourth to a myriad of other priorities. It came after studying, mostly because I was trying to learn a semester's worth of physics in two or three nights, it came after catching brief naps, usually at work, and it came after attending review sessions, study sessions, and worship services. I don't know if any future college students will read this, but I'll say this: don't be alarmed. I've relished those experiences, because I know that I've earned my grades through hunger and exhaustion and serious bonding experiences with classmates. Sure it sucks at the time, but it'll garner sympathy from customers at work, your landlord, and your parents will probably send you a little extra cash for late night finals week pizza/caffeine parties.

They don't take head counts at funerals.

They don't take head counts at funerals and I wonder if they should. I believe it would give the bereaved an opportunity to quantify their loss. Perhaps it could be akin to the Pritchard scale for measuring poetry, a way to determine how long and deeply felt grief should be, simply based on the number of lives touched. See, that's the problem with grief: there's not much about it that's quantifiable. It's ebb and flow must be allowed to run its course, however it chooses, despite our best efforts to control it. Maybe we need a way to say, "Hey jerkface, this guy only had a handful of people at his wake, so it's obvious that I cannot continue to feel sorrowful anymore." or "Hey, this lady loved much and taught much and gave much, and so it's ok that I'm continuing to be in such pain because she earned it."

Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I'm too used to accounting for everything that I forget to remember the Creator and Sustainer of life. If nothing else, Brady's life and death taught me that it's too short to be bitter about anything. It's too short to be unfair to people and it's too short to demand my way when it hurts less in the long run to bend over for whoever or whatever is in question.

I don't know exactly how the great cloud of witnesses manifests itself, but Brady, if you were able to watch your service today, I hope you know just how much you were loved and just how much you will be missed. No more defense Coach, and no one ever gets cut their senior year in heaven.

Nope, no head count today, just a lot of people who were blessed by knowing this unassuming servant.

It would appear to be time to post my reading list for the rest of the semester.

1. Madam Secretary: A Memoir by Madeleine Albright- Madeleine Albright did much to inspire me as a woman, a Democrat, and a Christian, and it will almost certainly be a joy to read her memoirs.

2. Living History by Hillary Clinton- A controversial figure, Hillary is almost certainly running for President in 2008 and I prefer preparedness when it comes to voting.

3. Pi: A Biography of the World's Most Mysterious Number by Alfred S. Posamentier and Ingmar Lehmann- As a math addict, it's high time that I learn something about this most delightfully useful number.

4. The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne- Yeah, yeah, Mrs. Story, I know we were supposed to read this before we took the test back in junior AP English, but somehow I never got around to it.

5.The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis- One of the questions I'm asked most often is how a good God allows so much pain and suffering, particularly among his most faithful. Perhaps this book will allow me to move beyond my pat answer of, "God knows more than I do," as this is not always helpful for those who are not current believers in the Almighty.

I'm currently taking suggestions for Christmas break, so if you have any, feel free to leave them.