More sideways stories...

Due to the popularity of my last post of random thoughts, and because I stay awake at night pondering these things (no, really...), here comes the second installment of random thoughts by Dan Ritter, only this time I am not extremely bored and running a fever.

First off, why in the world is it called "Daylight Savings Time"? I mean, we aren't saving any daylight, just moving it from one place to another. I actually looked it up on reference.com this morning, and it had no answers. I did find out that in Europe it is called "Summer Time", but in Provo that doesn't seem appropriate since the time has already changed and summer is a long way off. I guess "More daylight in the afternoon and less in the morning time" just doesn't have the same ring to it. The funny thing is, the entry at reference.com says that daylight savings time "causes problems for farming, entertainment and other occupations tied to the sun." How exactly does this create problems? We aren't changing the amount of sun in the day, just when it occurs. In fact, wouldn't this benefit people who rely on the sun, since they don't have to get up as early to catch the sunrise? Anytime I lose an hour of sleep, I am going to seriously investigate the process that caused the loss, and daylight savings time seems a little dubious to me.

In other news, sometime this month is the one year anniversary of my last date. This won't really surprise anyone who knows me. I don't know the exact date (that would be a little weird), but I know it is sometime in March. So by now you are wondering, how in the world has he gone a year without going on a date? (Okay, I know, most of you know exactly how it happened, since I am pretty sure everyone that reads this knows me pretty well). The truth of the matter is, I enjoy going on dates, but I hate asking people on dates. I hate calling people on the phone. And with dating, after the first phone call, the pressure just keeps going up. I trace my hatred of phone calls back to an incident in my childhood. As with all little kids, I enjoyed answering the phone. That is, until one fateful day. In my memory, it was in the evening, although it really could have been any time of day (and who knows whether it was during daylight time or standard time). The phone rang, and I ran to answer it. In my haste to answer the phone, proper answering dialogue slipped my mind and instead the words "Dear Heavenly Father" came out. Needless to say, the story was told in my family for years, and answering the phone has never had the same excitement. Now, when I go to make a phone call, I pace around the room, my palms get sweaty, and I have to plan out exactly what I want to say and practice it several times in advance. That is a lot of work for me to go through to go on a date, so I usually won't do it unless I am really motivated. Hence, it has been a year.

This is an actual picture of me calling someone to ask them on a date. Notice the panicked look on my face. A look of sheer terror, to be sure.