The weirdest of the weird

Those of you who know me well know one of the strangest quirks of my past.

When I was in high school, I claimed to be a werewolf.

You see, I was a depressed, internally emo teenager. I came to like depressing and scary things, including vampires. (And no, Twilight had nothing to do with this. This started before I had even heard of it. To this day I have never seen or read any Twilight.) At one point I determined that since vampires are fictional, their definition could shift. So I decided that the definition of a vampire could shift to include me. So for a time I claimed to be a vampire.

But then I discovered that according to some legends, when werewolves die they become vampires. So I decided that was me. I was a werewolf, and when I died I would become a vampire.

And I lived it. When there was a full moon, I would hunch over and growl when I was in the moonlight, as though I were turning into a wolf. I truly claimed to be a werewolf with aspirations of becoming a vampire.

My lycanthropy came to an end on my mission when one of my companions ratted me out to my mission president, who strongly discouraged me from being a werewolf. And my wolfish tendencies faded away.

I was just a weird teenager. An incredibly socially awkward teenager. Even more awkward than I am now. That was a long time ago. I don't do that anymore. (Although anyone who has seen my chest or back may still agree that I am a werewolf.)

But I was confronted with my own past this week in a rather creepy fashion. I was in the Wilk restroom when I heard someone awkwardly saying hi. There was a guy standing in the restroom with a creepy smile on his face who kept saying hi. As I was washing my hands, he started talking to me. He told me that he liked making scary faces. "I am a vampire," he said, and said he'd been around for 3,000 years (or something like that).

Considering my own history, I thought about telling him I was a werewolf, since I was reminded of my former claims. But I thought that he wouldn't think I was serious.

I was really creeped out by this guy. I was glad to get out of there. Some people pull pranks and such, but this guy didn't seem like one of those people. He didn't seem quite like a BYU student; he seemed a little out of place, but I can't place what exactly seemed so atypical (besides claiming to be a vampire). My own claims to werewolfism and vampirism were strange, but they were different from this guy in a few key ways. For one thing, I did not volunteer the information to strangers. If I was having a conversation with them, it might come up, but I would not just randomly throw it out to people as one of the first things I told them. Furthermore, I didn't hang out in restrooms and watch people at urinals while revealing my identity. And I was a teenager, and this guy looked a little older. He sure was a weirdo.

I heard of some other weird people this week. At BYU Studies they do poetry contests, and someone submitted a poem for the contest. It was signed "Sister [So and So]" and ended with "In the name of Jesus Christ, amen." The office secretary, two of the main editors, and I collectively took turns reading the poem out loud. The poem started out something like this. I can't remember it exactly, but I know that these are the rhymes she used:
"I was feeling tired and weary-head,
So I decided to go to bed.
I was soon in the land of Nod,
And I found myself before my God." 
The poem was called "The Body Suit." It was about being in the premortal life and having Christ tell us about the suits we would be getting as we came to earth (our office secretary said that the poem should be called "The Birthday Suit"), our bodies. The poem continued quite the same way, with silly rhymes and words being used in nonsensical ways that changed their part of speech (I think she used "worth" as a verb). We had quite the laugh.


Then I mentioned that I knew someone who wrote poetry like that and sent it through email. I pulled up one of her poems, entitled "Bling! of Spring!", and read the beginning of the poem to the others. It kept saying "Bling!" and talked about different things that happen during the spring. They really liked the lines "aeromatic fragrance of familiar" and "tulips of tiny." The secretary said that "Aromatic fragrance of familiar" would be a good name for a rock band. One of the editors proposed another good rock band name, "Bad Poetry." Then they really liked the closing line, "Bling! Bling! Bling! Bling!!!!/ Is God really dead?" Before stepping out of the office, one of the editors said, "Well, you know what they say in poetry, 'Bling bling!'" Since that day, we keep talking about being "weary-head" and "bling bling."

Now, when I write poetry, it inevitably ends up ridiculous. But I decide to run with it and make it ridiculous, like when I rhymed "Chopping the heads off of snakes that are writhing" with "tithing" (see this video). The above poetesses were quite serious about their poems. And in my ridiculousness, I don't change adjectives to nouns or verbs.

I think about how weird Mr. Vampire and the wannabe poetesses and Jan Terri and others are, but then I think, "So what? At least they're more normal than I am." Even though I don't claim to be a vampire (anymore) or submit laughably bad poems or say my r's as w's or many other things, I think that I am the weirdest person on the earth. I even think that somehow I'm not quite human (but not a vampire).

So it surprises me that I, the weirdest person(?) on earth, got the new calling I did today. I have been serving as assistant ward clerk since August, and today I was called, sustained, and set apart as THE ward clerk. Which means that my Sundays in the future will be full of bishopric and ward council meetings, and audits, and tithing settlements, and all sorts of things. I've gotten familiar with membership work, but I know little about finances. I've known that I would get this calling for some time now, but now it's official. I think about other people who have held this position, and I think of them as normal people. So why does a weirdo like me get it? In the body of the church (see 1 Corinthians 12:12-28), I'm content to be a toenail or a chest hair. But ward clerk is a bigger calling. I only hope I can live up to the demands required of the call.