In fourth grade history class we were told that we would have a history test in a few days. Being the student I was, I took the book home and studied it along with whatever notes and handouts I had. When it came time for the test, I was ready. Before starting the test, the teacher said it would be open book. Everyone grabbed their textbooks and opened them up, reading for the test…everyone, that is, except me.

I figured that I had studied the subject matter enough. I remember thinking I didn’t need the book because I had this information down. I boldly accepted my test and started answering questions that I knew the answer to.

I don’t remember any point during the test where I wanted to bring my book out, though that surely would have still been an option. Instead, I dutifully finished the test and turned it in, proud of my studying skills. Now this was quite a while ago, so this is how I remember it now. I very well may have turned it in a little more nervous than usual, wishing I had used my book. I don’t at any point recall enough anxiety over the questions that I felt the need to retrieve my book.

When the tests were handed back a few days later, the teacher stated that “only one person was bold enough to fail this test.” I wasn’t worried about that person being me because I had studied and felt good about how I did on the test. Sure enough, when the tests were handed out, I had a failing grade on my paper (or really close to it). The grade was in the 60s…for an open book test.

I learned something on that day. I learned that no matter how comfortable I felt about the material presented, I was always going to use my book in an open book test. That life lesson has not failed me to this point.

When the scores were posted for this recent online midterm, my grade was an 89. I know for an open book test that’s not really overwhelmingly great. I blame the lower-than-desired grade on the fact that I cut one hour off my allowable testing time by scheduling an appointment earlier that day and then forgetting my appointment time when I started the test. I ended up only having two hours to take my three hour test.

There’s another lesson I don’t expect I’ll forget any time soon.

I spent a good number of my formative years at my great-grandmother’s house. She helped raise me, including educating me, and grew to love me. Everyone knew I was her favorite grandchild and that she absolutely adored me. When I eventually moved back in with my mother, the visits to my great-grandmother slowly grew fewer and fewer. I would go many weekends, then I would go a few weekends, and then I would not really go at all. She grew older and had to move out of the trailer where I grew up. She was in the hospital for cancer and I managed to visit her once. She was in a nursing home as she slowly lost her cognitive functions. She always asked about me when visitors came and would hope for the day when I would come visit. I managed one visit in years. She died and I have no idea when I last saw her before that. She spent the second part of her life getting irrevocably attached to me and then losing me. I disappointed her greatly.

My mother always encouraged me and fed my growing intelligence. She told me how smart I was all the time through grade school and high school. She did what it took to provide for and nurture a budding intelligence. I was, at different times, enrolled in an engineering program and a pre-veterinarian program. I am neither an engineer nor a veterinarian. I am not a medical provider, though I grew up with medical professionals all around me. One college diploma later, I am an EMT (a one semester course) and a registration representative (requisite? a one semester course). Neither pays enough to live above basic needs. I have disappointed my mother.

My wife saw my potential and married a man who could be anything he put his mind to. She has lived through periods of marriage where we bought generic brand foods and didn’t buy new clothes. She has lived though periods of working an extra job on the weekends to pay the bills. She inherited thousands of dollars of debt when she married me and had to help me pay it off instead of starting her marriage ahead of the game. She has worked long shifts, she has worked extra shifts, and she had worked physically demanding jobs. She has skimped and sacrificed and taken the brunt of living a low income lifestyle. Instead of pushing myself to constantly better myself and our situation, she is burdened with a man who finds contentment for too long with too little. I have disappointed the very love of my life.

If you were to ask me, completely out of this, or any, context, the three people I love or have loved most in my entire life, I would list these three women. I have let them all down to varying degrees, from the excusable to the unforgivable. I have become deplorable, and when I verbalize it, it hurts.

Verbal Score: 670, % Below: 95

Quantitative Score: 700, % Below: 71

Analytical Writing Score: 4.5, % Below: 63

I guess I shouldn’t complain since the test went over a lot of information I knew back in high school but had long since forgotten. And I only spend a couple weeks before hand, here and there, refreshing myself. It’s the story of my life. I did OK, but could have done better if I’d practiced more.

We’ll see where this all leads me, if anywhere.

I wouldn’t say I’ve made any deliberately bad choices lately. But where have I ended up, if I look at the result of all my innocent choices over the past months or years? Can I see a trend? If I look at my path objectively, do I say “holy cow, how did I get here?” Or am I OK?

Choices aren’t always as innocuous as they seem. It pays to sit down before making a decision and ask where this choice will lead you. As for me, I don’t think I have to worry about ending up like the characters in these recent stories. But, I do need to concentrate more on the decisions I make. I need to keep the bigger picture in mind.

I gave this some thought tonight, and there are a few reasons why I think my planned snacking is a bad thing.

First of all, my planned snacking can lead to double-snacking. If I plan on having popcorn later, I might not still want the popcorn when the time comes. Maybe when the day is all done and I’m crawling in bed to read, the situations of the day have left me with a craving for ice cream. I had planned on having popcorn, though, so I pop a bag and munch on it while I read. Guess what I do when I’m done, though? I had a craving for ice cream, so after my bag of microwave popcorn, I go get some ice cream. Double snacking. If I wouldn’t have planned for popcorn earlier, I could have just had the ice cream. Why don’t I just change my plans? I don’t know. I kind of feel like I have left something undone. I have changed my plans before, but I don’t always do it. I’ll try to be better with that in the future.

Working off the changing my plans idea, the second problem with planned snacking is that I might not even be hungry when the time comes. Maybe we had dinner late. Maybe I’m full. Maybe I just don’t feel good. There are different reasons why I might not be hungry when reading time arrives at night. Regardless, I have made plans, and I prefer to keep them. I dutifully get my snack and pile it in on top of whatever else is already in my belly.

I have some kind of desire to be munching while I read. Even if I’m not hungry, sitting down doing nothing but reading seems to be some kind of signal to my body that it’s time to snack. If I could find a zero calorie snack that could be considered a munchy (crunchy is better), then I think I’d be golden. As it is, I’ve convinced myself that popcorn is the best snack food.

Finally, speaking of sending signals to my body, like some kind of Pavlov’s reader, I think planned snacking is a bad idea because it has created a habit. My snacking is apparently habit-forming. My body expects it. My hands, and even my mind, are restless if I’m just sitting down reading and not snacking. My body now reacts to this stimulus. I imagine when I settle down with a book, my body now automatically starts producing more saliva and stomach acid. My fight-or-flight muscles relax and my digestive muscles kick in.

I need to break this habit.

Maybe joining the gym will help me. I get home later, I eat later, I’m not hungry when the night settles down and I grab my book to start reading. Now if I can just stop planning my snack, then I won’t have to break my plans. Maybe, just maybe, I can spin out of this rut and move on to healthier eating habits.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

My biological father’s name is Roger. Lee is his brother’s name, but not my original middle name. It was originally Leroy Edgar, a combination of my maternal grandfather’s middle name and my paternal grandfather’s first name. When I was growing up, I was told my middle name was Lee. It was like an acronym. When I was 18 I had the name legally changed.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

How much tearage is considered crying? Is misting up crying? Do you have to have multiple tears? If we go with misty, I’m going to have to say there is an amazing song that one girl sings in church. It never fails to

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?

Nothing against Andrew Osenga, but I’ll go with roast beef. I mean, they make steak and cheese subs out of it, too, right?

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

No. I have three godchildren, though. Officially I have two godchildren, but whatever. I’m kidnapping the third one. You can’t split up the pack.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?

No.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?

I haven’t decided yet.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?

Favorite? I have no idea. Probably something that is not good for me, like Fruity Pebbles. For quite a while, I’ve been sticking to the good old Total Raisin Bran, though. I don’t know why; it doesn’t keep me thin.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?

Some of them. I have sneakers that I wear around and on the treadmill that just stay tied. I have shoes I wear to work that get untied.

(What happened to question 12? Was it that bad?)

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?

Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup. I have two in the freezer. One’s my wife’s, but she won’t mind if I eat it.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

I’d say an overall look. I probably immediately categorize them: Little old lady, short fat lady, punk, teeny-bopper, jock, yuppy, etc.

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?

Lack of drive/ambition.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?

I’m not sure. I miss my friends Randy Matheson, John Woodard, and Kris Mailepors. I love Facebook for the simple fact that I have kind of found them again. I wish I could spend more time with my cousin David. I miss my great grandmother who raised me during some very formative years. I’m satisfied with all I have, though, and I don’t spend much time missing people.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?

The heater. I can’t concentrate well on reading or writing if there’s music in the background.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?

Midnight. I like dark blue. Before blue, red/orange was my favorite color. Or was it orange/red? The two weren’t the same, and I only really liked one of them.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?

Fritos, campfire, steak (cooked, not raw)

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?

Very much. I kind of miss him, too, but I feel like I lost out on my chance to spend time with him when he lived around here. Now I have no right to wish him back. I suck.

27. HAIR COLOR?

Brown. It was blonde when I was born, though.

28. EYE COLOR?

Blue

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?

When my eyes don’t reject them. In the last year or so, my eyes don’t seem to tolerate my contacts. They will get red and irritated after just a couple hours. That makes for an uncomfortable day at work. It stinks, too, because I’ve never really been a glasses person until recently. In high school, when my eyes first started going bad, I went straight to contacts. Grumble. It might be time to try Lasix. (sp?)

30 FAVORITE FOOD?

Ribeye steak.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?

Summer, when I can do things outside. Right now, everything’s buried under about 2 feet of snow, with another foot falling as I type.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?

Kisses. I don’t like almonds.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?

Probably ice cream…with a lot of close seconds.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?

Sherman’s Lagoon: Greatest Hits and Near Misses. Sherman’s Lagoon is a cartoon strip. But we don’t get it around here. Our newspaper is lame.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?

A gel wrist-rest.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?

I am completely indifferent to both of them.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?

I guess Austin, TX.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?

No, but I ride a special bus! I would like to think I’m a writer, but I need to stop fooling myself.

Alas, I am no librarian. However, I do have books. I love books. Here are my bookshelves and my living room reading area:

(Yes, those are Christmas lights. They stay up year round. Yes, that’s crappy wallpaper and border that came with the house. Never mind them. Stay focused.)

I don’t have a card catalog, but my books are arranged alphabetically by author. My wife’s books, on the other hand…some are alphabetically by author. The state books are alphabetically by state (or, more accurately, by the name of the book). The collections are alphabetically by the name of the book. And the Christmas ones are arranged by height.

Are we strange?

Buttercup: You can’t hurt me. Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.

Brian is a conundrum to modern science. I’d like to think I am, too:

I’ve been married over 8 years. I’ve know my wife for about 9 years. Every time I see her is still like the first. I still catch myself just staring at her eyes as she talks, or listening to the sound of her voice instead of what she’s saying. I’m still hopelessly, madly in love, and I love the fact that I can say that.

When we were first married, some co-workers told me that my infatuation would fade. All I can say is that I’ve never exactly been like most other people.

I was going to finish that last part up with “read it and weep,” but I’m afraid some might actually do that. I don’t want to make people feel bad for their love lost. Not any worse than they’ll already feel reading this.

Let’s keep it up, shall we? Who’s with us?

Here’s what I don’t like: lack of depth perception.

Have you ever tossed around a football in the evening and, as the night comes on and the sky darkens, the ball gets harder and harder to see? At one point it bashes you in the face because you didn’t get your hands up in time. You misjudged the ball’s location. Poor depth perception at night.

I have that same problem with driving. When I need to make a left-hand turn onto my street at night, I can never tell how far away the car is that’s coming straight toward me. Most of the time I end up waiting to turn. By the time the car goes by me, I could have turned two or three times.

Then you have the walkers and the bikers, the people who are supposed to be wearing something reflective but might not actually be. The can be coming at you, walking ahead of you, anything, and you can’t tell. It’s dark out. And guess who would get in trouble if you accidentally hit them.

I think I used to be one of those people. I never worried about wearing reflective markings. I could see if cars were coming or not, and I wasn’t about to let them hit me. How naive.

I’m sure you have some night driving stories or suggestions. Please share.

Sometimes when I get sick, I’m kind of…reluctant…to fall asleep. It seems that I’m breathing by effort of sheer will alone. If I fall asleep, what happens to the effort? When I’m not making a conscious exertion to keep air entering, and exiting, my lungs, will it keep happening? Or, will I fall asleep and simply stop breathing.

Really, when people think of how they might want to leave this world, dying in their sleep is one of the top ways I hear. I’m so OK with quitting this mortal body at any time. I’m not afraid of dying when I’m not awake to keep myself breathing.

I’m afraid of leaving behind a wife who, I think, needs me.

My fears, if I am to call them that for the sake of the post, have never been realized any other time I’ve been sick and had breathing difficulties. I’m not really worried too much about it happening now, either. I am a little anxious for the day when I think my wife could easily take care of herself if I was no longer around. When she has graduated and is making enough money to survive on her own, I shall…breathe easier, as the saying goes.