Can I just go on a little rant first?
As ward clerk, I have become fairly familiar with the Church's program MLS. But despite being familiar with it, I don't get it, because it is absolutely the worst software I ever have to deal with. It reminds me of the programs that would have been in the computer lab in junior high. I don't understand how, with all the Church members there are, they don't hire someone to make a better program. It is so terrible, being ten or fifteen years out of date. Some things have been transferred over to lds.org, but a lot of things--including all financial things--have to be done on the horrible program. My ward has had some troubles with the finances. It is difficult to fix the problems in MLS. I was glad both last week and today when I had to be gone when some stake representatives tried to fix them, because I don't want to deal with them.
MLS is just so frustrating to use. For example, it has a section where you can list callings in the ward. When you add a new calling, it adds it to the bottom of the list of the callings, not alphabetically or grouped by calling. So you have to scroll up and down if you want to see if someone is listed. And you can't easily rearrange it. You'd think you'd just be able to click and drag callings where you want them. But no. You have to select one calling, then press a "Move Up" or "Move Down" button. It's so annoying. And we got a new second counselor for our bishopric over a month ago, and I still can't get him set up as such. It is impossible to find anything in the program--you have to guess where to go. I can't wait for the day when this dinosaur of a program goes extinct. (I'll be released by then.)
Two years ago, I coined the term lemits to refer to the odd time of year that occurs between late February and mid March. Often during lemits time, I get really depressed, and even if I'm not depressed, it feels really weird. This week has definitely been lemits weather. But it doesn't seem that weird, and it definitely doesn't feel depressing, at least not yet. In fact, it's made me kind of happy. With lemits weather, I'll be able to get into shape--this week I had a full run and a few partial runs. The bad thing about it, though, is that today I saw a hornet when I was coming home from church. Most people are afraid of spiders. I'm afraid of wasps and hornets. If I could have one superpower, I would choose the ability to look at a wasp or hornet and have it instantly die. I'm also worried about our snowpack, because it's still winter, and the mountains are a little too brown.
Today I drove up to West Jordan for my cousin Quin's ordination. It was a beautiful lemits day--the sun was shining on the snow-covered mountains, there was not much traffic, the Lower Lights album I got one year and five days ago finally cooperated in my car's CD player, and my GPS was my little guardian angel. I'm so happy to have a GPS, because then I don't have to worry as much about getting lost. At the ordination, I got to see my mom--it was her first time leaving the house since she came home from the hospital a week ago. I also got to see the toddler "Wallace." My niece, Allie, was playing with a grabber toy with him, and she said, "I don't want to cut off your hand." He said, "Why?" He also preferred to drink lemonade from my grandma's cup rather than from his own cup. He responded in the affirmative when someone asked him if hers tasted better.
Yesterday I ordered my cap and gown. All I have to do now is find a job. I will be a college grad in two months! Scary!
(If lemits is bringing you down, here's a little song to make you happy. I don't care for the video. I've been listening to Mideau a lot this week, especially since I ordered a CD of theirs with demo versions of the songs on their album. I love them.
)
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Umm...What?: A response to Frozen advocating a gay agenda
I love being a Mormon. I really do. I'm deeply Mormon.
But sometimes my fellow Latter-day Saints do things that embarrass me and make me think, "If Internet use is supposed to make us Mormons appear normal, these guys missed the memo!"
Maybe you heard about this lady. She is appalled that everyone is gushing over Frozen, that children are memorizing the songs, and that Mormon Alex Boye's Africanized version of "Let It Go" has gone viral. Why is she so appalled? Because, says she, the movie is really just a piece of pro-gay propaganda.
Yes, she is serious.
That idea was so strange to me that I had to read her logic behind her claim. And her reasoning is even crazier than her conclusion.
Basically, Elsa's magical powers are an analogy for being gay and having to hide it, but ultimately letting it go.
Further supporting arguments are that Elsa is a "queen" and that the shopkeeper had a gay lover in the sauna. (Umm...Where did you get that idea?)
No matter where you fall on the spectrum of ideas about homosexuality, it's pretty clear that this woman is a nut!
In fact, when I saw Frozen, I thought about the fact that Disney hasn't ventured into homosexuality, just keeping things safe from the backlash they would inevitably receive. I mean, Anna is in love with men. I appreciated Frozen because it emphasized that love doesn't have to be toward a significant other--unlike most princess movies--but can and should be toward members of your own family.
I think that even if Frozen was made with promoting a gay agenda (and I certainly do not think it was), it was intentionally done so so that it could apply to other people. If their message was about not being ashamed of who you are, then they did it in such a way that it could apply to anyone with struggles, not just gays. And I think that is a positive message.
I think people are too eager to read into things. Last fall, the same thing happened with the movie Free Birds. This movie bombed, probably because the premise is silly (two turkeys travel to the first Thanksgiving to get turkeys off the holiday menu), but it got a lot of negative reaction because it supposedly had an agenda. People were saying it was promoting veganism and PETA. But pizza plays a rather prominent part in the movie--thus veganism is out, and one pizza commercial in the movie even has pepperoni, so vegetarianism is out. It's really no different than the concept of Chik-Fil-A's cows telling people to "Eat Mor Chikin." Others said the movie was an analogy of European imperialism, since the turkeys are dressed like Native Americans and have to escape the Pilgrims. But I don't think that was the point of the movie, either. Probably the most logical criticism of the movie was putting Wampanoag Indians in the clothes of Plains Indians.
While we're on the subject of Mormons and homosexuality, maybe you've heard of D. Michael Quinn. He's a Mormon historian who was excommunicated a while back. He also happens to be gay. He published an article about how Joseph Smith taught and advocated for homosexuality. He took quotes the Prophet made about men lying down (in death) and getting up again (in Resurrection) and painted them as though it was about homosexuality. He even suspected homosexuality because Joseph offered his arm as a pillow for his fellow prisoners in Liberty Jail. He is another example of people twisting things to see what they want to see (or to see what they don't want so they can complain about it, in the case of the "Well-Behaved Mormon Woman").
So at least I can rest comforted that Mormons aren't the only ones who twist things.
And I have to agree with the lady on one thing. I also am surprised Alex Boye's video went viral. But that's because I find him vastly overrated.
But sometimes my fellow Latter-day Saints do things that embarrass me and make me think, "If Internet use is supposed to make us Mormons appear normal, these guys missed the memo!"
Maybe you heard about this lady. She is appalled that everyone is gushing over Frozen, that children are memorizing the songs, and that Mormon Alex Boye's Africanized version of "Let It Go" has gone viral. Why is she so appalled? Because, says she, the movie is really just a piece of pro-gay propaganda.
Yes, she is serious.
That idea was so strange to me that I had to read her logic behind her claim. And her reasoning is even crazier than her conclusion.
Basically, Elsa's magical powers are an analogy for being gay and having to hide it, but ultimately letting it go.
Further supporting arguments are that Elsa is a "queen" and that the shopkeeper had a gay lover in the sauna. (Umm...Where did you get that idea?)
No matter where you fall on the spectrum of ideas about homosexuality, it's pretty clear that this woman is a nut!
In fact, when I saw Frozen, I thought about the fact that Disney hasn't ventured into homosexuality, just keeping things safe from the backlash they would inevitably receive. I mean, Anna is in love with men. I appreciated Frozen because it emphasized that love doesn't have to be toward a significant other--unlike most princess movies--but can and should be toward members of your own family.
I think that even if Frozen was made with promoting a gay agenda (and I certainly do not think it was), it was intentionally done so so that it could apply to other people. If their message was about not being ashamed of who you are, then they did it in such a way that it could apply to anyone with struggles, not just gays. And I think that is a positive message.
I think people are too eager to read into things. Last fall, the same thing happened with the movie Free Birds. This movie bombed, probably because the premise is silly (two turkeys travel to the first Thanksgiving to get turkeys off the holiday menu), but it got a lot of negative reaction because it supposedly had an agenda. People were saying it was promoting veganism and PETA. But pizza plays a rather prominent part in the movie--thus veganism is out, and one pizza commercial in the movie even has pepperoni, so vegetarianism is out. It's really no different than the concept of Chik-Fil-A's cows telling people to "Eat Mor Chikin." Others said the movie was an analogy of European imperialism, since the turkeys are dressed like Native Americans and have to escape the Pilgrims. But I don't think that was the point of the movie, either. Probably the most logical criticism of the movie was putting Wampanoag Indians in the clothes of Plains Indians.
While we're on the subject of Mormons and homosexuality, maybe you've heard of D. Michael Quinn. He's a Mormon historian who was excommunicated a while back. He also happens to be gay. He published an article about how Joseph Smith taught and advocated for homosexuality. He took quotes the Prophet made about men lying down (in death) and getting up again (in Resurrection) and painted them as though it was about homosexuality. He even suspected homosexuality because Joseph offered his arm as a pillow for his fellow prisoners in Liberty Jail. He is another example of people twisting things to see what they want to see (or to see what they don't want so they can complain about it, in the case of the "Well-Behaved Mormon Woman").
So at least I can rest comforted that Mormons aren't the only ones who twist things.
And I have to agree with the lady on one thing. I also am surprised Alex Boye's video went viral. But that's because I find him vastly overrated.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Too many things
What an eventful week!
On Monday, I had my interview with the Joseph Smith Papers. I thought it went fairly well, but as I was leaving, one of the interviewers said, "It was nice to meet you," and in response, I completely stumbled over my words and gave the most awkward response ever.
On Wednesday, I got an email that said, among other things, "We interviewed only a small number of applicants who all had exceptional qualifications. I’m sorry to inform you that we have extended an offer to another applicant, who has accepted the offer."
I'm not disappointed in not getting the job. In some ways, I feel it's a bit of reprieve, because my post-grad fate is not sealed yet. But I was more bothered that they didn't want to hire me. I can't help but wonder what is wrong with me, even though there may be nothing. Was it the awkward response I gave? Was it all the "ums" I said? Was it because, when asked, I said I preferred a laid-back environment to a professional environment? Was it my pink tie?
But considering it was the first job I've applied for for after I graduate, I'm not disappointed.
In fact, on Thursday one of my senior editors at BYU Studies gave me a more serious task to do, saying he wants to promote my job title so that I can put it on my resume. I'm nervous being assigned to be in charge of an entire article from the beginning, but I know it's helpful for me. Then on Friday, another senior editor alerted me to a campus job opening, so I'll be sure to apply to that. I doubt I'll get that one, just because I'm sure there will be lots of applicants, but I'm definitely going to try.
This semester I'm working on a student journal as a senior editor, which means that the other student editors turn in their edits, and I incorporate the changes. I hope I'm a better editor than the other students are. I look at their edits, and I think, "Well, this change works, but that doesn't make it better, and sometimes it even makes it worse." But then sometimes I will look at the final versions of things I edit for BYU Studies. Sometimes I see that my changes are ignored, and I think, "Does that mean I'm a bad editor?" But other times I will see my edits incorporated, and that's a good feeling. For example, this past week I discovered that an author was talking about Fantasia but he meant to be talking about Fantasia 2000. My senior editor seemed pleased with the catch.
Then, of course, my last post talks about my mom's accident. We visited her yesterday after her surgery. She's been doing pretty well. Yesterday, a respiratory therapist came in and said to my mom, "You're not a smoker, are you?" My mom said, "I'm stupid enough to break my leg on the stairs, but I'm not stupid enough to smoke." After he left, Susanne said that he was a smoker (she knew from having worked in that hospital). Then today we went back to try to pick her up. The medical folks didn't seem to know what they were doing, because they said they were going to release her early, but it took four or five more hours. First she was going to get crutches but not a knee scooter, then a knee scooter but not crutches, etc., even though she was supposed to get both. When the scooter and the crutches finally came, they were the wrong kind of crutches. But she's home now! She's doing remarkably well, all things considered. I had planned to go back to Provo yesterday, but this turn of events changed my mind. (My Iowan roommate's mom recently broke her leg, so he was sending her a care package. I said, "You're a better son than I am," and he said, "But you can visit your mom!" So here's this situation to prove it.)
On Monday, I had my interview with the Joseph Smith Papers. I thought it went fairly well, but as I was leaving, one of the interviewers said, "It was nice to meet you," and in response, I completely stumbled over my words and gave the most awkward response ever.
On Wednesday, I got an email that said, among other things, "We interviewed only a small number of applicants who all had exceptional qualifications. I’m sorry to inform you that we have extended an offer to another applicant, who has accepted the offer."
I'm not disappointed in not getting the job. In some ways, I feel it's a bit of reprieve, because my post-grad fate is not sealed yet. But I was more bothered that they didn't want to hire me. I can't help but wonder what is wrong with me, even though there may be nothing. Was it the awkward response I gave? Was it all the "ums" I said? Was it because, when asked, I said I preferred a laid-back environment to a professional environment? Was it my pink tie?
But considering it was the first job I've applied for for after I graduate, I'm not disappointed.
In fact, on Thursday one of my senior editors at BYU Studies gave me a more serious task to do, saying he wants to promote my job title so that I can put it on my resume. I'm nervous being assigned to be in charge of an entire article from the beginning, but I know it's helpful for me. Then on Friday, another senior editor alerted me to a campus job opening, so I'll be sure to apply to that. I doubt I'll get that one, just because I'm sure there will be lots of applicants, but I'm definitely going to try.
This semester I'm working on a student journal as a senior editor, which means that the other student editors turn in their edits, and I incorporate the changes. I hope I'm a better editor than the other students are. I look at their edits, and I think, "Well, this change works, but that doesn't make it better, and sometimes it even makes it worse." But then sometimes I will look at the final versions of things I edit for BYU Studies. Sometimes I see that my changes are ignored, and I think, "Does that mean I'm a bad editor?" But other times I will see my edits incorporated, and that's a good feeling. For example, this past week I discovered that an author was talking about Fantasia but he meant to be talking about Fantasia 2000. My senior editor seemed pleased with the catch.
Then, of course, my last post talks about my mom's accident. We visited her yesterday after her surgery. She's been doing pretty well. Yesterday, a respiratory therapist came in and said to my mom, "You're not a smoker, are you?" My mom said, "I'm stupid enough to break my leg on the stairs, but I'm not stupid enough to smoke." After he left, Susanne said that he was a smoker (she knew from having worked in that hospital). Then today we went back to try to pick her up. The medical folks didn't seem to know what they were doing, because they said they were going to release her early, but it took four or five more hours. First she was going to get crutches but not a knee scooter, then a knee scooter but not crutches, etc., even though she was supposed to get both. When the scooter and the crutches finally came, they were the wrong kind of crutches. But she's home now! She's doing remarkably well, all things considered. I had planned to go back to Provo yesterday, but this turn of events changed my mind. (My Iowan roommate's mom recently broke her leg, so he was sending her a care package. I said, "You're a better son than I am," and he said, "But you can visit your mom!" So here's this situation to prove it.)
Friday, February 14, 2014
The St. Valentine's Day Massacre
Valentine's Day is usually one of the least eventful holidays. Today, however, was an exception.
After taking a French test, working an hour, and getting ready, I drove home to visit. I haven't spent Valentine's Day with my family for four years.
When I got home, my mom told me that my dad had fainted shortly after getting to work this morning. He went to the doctor's, and they ran some tests, but they're not sure what caused the fainting. He won't go back to work for a few days. Hopefully it wasn't anything serious. (I'm familiar with the idea of fainting.)
My mom and I went out to get pizzas for dinner, and while one of them was cooking, I talked with my mom while she was cleaning the bathroom. Then the pizza got done, and we were walking downstairs to go eat it and watch Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. My mom was in the lead.
At the bottom step, suddenly my mom kind of slumped, screamed, and said, "It's broken!" There was that feeling in the air of "I can't believe this is happening!" I didn't know what to do--does a broken leg merit a 911 call? It did, so I made an emergency call. As I had to describe what was going on to the dispatcher, that was when I realized how serious it was. My mom was bleeding at the ankle--the bones had broken through, apparently, although I didn't see. I didn't dare look. I didn't think it would be good for me to faint while my mom's leg was broken and the same day that my dad fainted. I did see enough, though, to know that her foot was at a completely wrong angle from her leg.
My mom, ever the responsible optimist, was remarkably chipper, all things considered. She was joking around, and the first thing she asked for was her phone so that she could call one of her Primary counselors to let them know she wouldn't be in on Sunday. (I think she wins the award for Primary President of the year!)
I called my sister, Susanne, who is a nurse. She said she was going to come over, even though my mom said she didn't need to. It's good she did, though, because she's more responsible than my dad and I, and she knows more about medicine than we do. She instructed me to stay home to watch over my dad. I almost think my dad feels worse about the break than my mom does!
The ambulance arrived, and they put a splint on my mom's leg. Then we helped get her in a chair they could easily get up the stairs. Then they transferred her to a gurney.
Before leaving, Susanne said to me, "Will you clean up..." I thought she was going to say "the pizza," but she said, "the blood." The pizza was easily salvaged (it was a stuffed pizza, so there wasn't much on top), and then I spent the next little time using cold water to blot up blood. There's probably still some in the carpet, but I don't think anyone will know. (Except that I just publicly announced it.) I had to throw away the sock the paramedics cut off, which was full of curdled blood.
Although this was a most unfortunate event, it could have been worse. It didn't happen on a mountain, as happened to her in 1989. (Maybe it was 1990. I don't know, I was a baby.) It didn't happen outside on ice, as happened to her in 2000. It happened while both my dad and I were there. I was thinking I'm glad we aren't cavemen, because I don't know what cavemen would do in that situation.
I've heard that they are taking her into surgery tonight, and she should be able to come home tomorrow (tomorrow being February 15, since I don't know when you are reading this).
This is definitely a Valentine's Day to go down in Melville history.
After taking a French test, working an hour, and getting ready, I drove home to visit. I haven't spent Valentine's Day with my family for four years.
When I got home, my mom told me that my dad had fainted shortly after getting to work this morning. He went to the doctor's, and they ran some tests, but they're not sure what caused the fainting. He won't go back to work for a few days. Hopefully it wasn't anything serious. (I'm familiar with the idea of fainting.)
My mom and I went out to get pizzas for dinner, and while one of them was cooking, I talked with my mom while she was cleaning the bathroom. Then the pizza got done, and we were walking downstairs to go eat it and watch Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. My mom was in the lead.
At the bottom step, suddenly my mom kind of slumped, screamed, and said, "It's broken!" There was that feeling in the air of "I can't believe this is happening!" I didn't know what to do--does a broken leg merit a 911 call? It did, so I made an emergency call. As I had to describe what was going on to the dispatcher, that was when I realized how serious it was. My mom was bleeding at the ankle--the bones had broken through, apparently, although I didn't see. I didn't dare look. I didn't think it would be good for me to faint while my mom's leg was broken and the same day that my dad fainted. I did see enough, though, to know that her foot was at a completely wrong angle from her leg.
My mom, ever the responsible optimist, was remarkably chipper, all things considered. She was joking around, and the first thing she asked for was her phone so that she could call one of her Primary counselors to let them know she wouldn't be in on Sunday. (I think she wins the award for Primary President of the year!)
I called my sister, Susanne, who is a nurse. She said she was going to come over, even though my mom said she didn't need to. It's good she did, though, because she's more responsible than my dad and I, and she knows more about medicine than we do. She instructed me to stay home to watch over my dad. I almost think my dad feels worse about the break than my mom does!
The ambulance arrived, and they put a splint on my mom's leg. Then we helped get her in a chair they could easily get up the stairs. Then they transferred her to a gurney.
Before leaving, Susanne said to me, "Will you clean up..." I thought she was going to say "the pizza," but she said, "the blood." The pizza was easily salvaged (it was a stuffed pizza, so there wasn't much on top), and then I spent the next little time using cold water to blot up blood. There's probably still some in the carpet, but I don't think anyone will know. (Except that I just publicly announced it.) I had to throw away the sock the paramedics cut off, which was full of curdled blood.
Although this was a most unfortunate event, it could have been worse. It didn't happen on a mountain, as happened to her in 1989. (Maybe it was 1990. I don't know, I was a baby.) It didn't happen outside on ice, as happened to her in 2000. It happened while both my dad and I were there. I was thinking I'm glad we aren't cavemen, because I don't know what cavemen would do in that situation.
I've heard that they are taking her into surgery tonight, and she should be able to come home tomorrow (tomorrow being February 15, since I don't know when you are reading this).
This is definitely a Valentine's Day to go down in Melville history.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
The Lost Weekend
I didn't really get a weekend this weekend.
I stayed on campus late on Friday, but it turns out I didn't need to. Then on Saturday morning BYU Studies was having a conference, and they wanted me to help out. So I lost my sleep-in day to go help out with that. We helped set up, and then I went back to the office to get some work hours in before they needed help taking things down. The other intern and I had a hard time focusing on our editing, since we had to get up early. But I was nevertheless able to make some important catches in the piece I was editing.
However, it works out nicely. I had agreed to work on Saturday before I knew that I was going to have an interview on Monday. Tomorrow morning I have an interview in Salt Lake with the Joseph Smith Papers, so I came home tonight. I won't work tomorrow, which turns out nicely since I already got work hours in.
This week was the first week I got a full run in, in nearly two months. It was lightly snowing most of the time, but I was warm enough I needed to take off my hoodie. As it gets warmer, I should be able to go running more.
I'm sorry. I'm tired, and this week wasn't very interesting, so this is all you get.
I stayed on campus late on Friday, but it turns out I didn't need to. Then on Saturday morning BYU Studies was having a conference, and they wanted me to help out. So I lost my sleep-in day to go help out with that. We helped set up, and then I went back to the office to get some work hours in before they needed help taking things down. The other intern and I had a hard time focusing on our editing, since we had to get up early. But I was nevertheless able to make some important catches in the piece I was editing.
However, it works out nicely. I had agreed to work on Saturday before I knew that I was going to have an interview on Monday. Tomorrow morning I have an interview in Salt Lake with the Joseph Smith Papers, so I came home tonight. I won't work tomorrow, which turns out nicely since I already got work hours in.
This week was the first week I got a full run in, in nearly two months. It was lightly snowing most of the time, but I was warm enough I needed to take off my hoodie. As it gets warmer, I should be able to go running more.
I'm sorry. I'm tired, and this week wasn't very interesting, so this is all you get.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Geriatrics
One day four years ago, I was at a combined dinner group in my ward, and I was introducing myself to someone. I explained that it was my first semester and I had just gotten home from my mission. Our elders quorum president was sitting nearby, and he was shocked. He said, "I thought you were like 25, just about to graduate!" I'm not sure if that meant that at 21 I was overly mature for my age or overly bland for my age.
Now I really am 25, just about to graduate. I wonder what age people think I am now. But I feel old. I know that all of you who are older than me are laughing at me. But in the world I'm in, I'm old. I see all the birth years for people whose records I bring into my ward, and most of the guys tend to be born in 1991 or 1992. I've seen girls born as late as 1995. I went into first grade in 1995. On Friday, in our French lab we were supposed to tell about our first day of college. One girl was a freshman, so her first day was only in September. My first day was January 4, 2010. On Friday night, we had a couscous party for my French class. Someone asked me if I knew someone from the Spokane mission, and I asked if he served more recently. He said, "No, he's been home two years." That's recent to me.
I have had classmates younger than me who not only are married but have kids. I don't really mind that I'm not married. (I do have one relative who, regardless of whether she actually thinks this, seems like she thinks my worth is dependent on my marital status. Maybe that's why she unfriended me this week.) However, I do sometimes worry about going through life without having a posterity. Especially when there are so many dumb people having babies.
There are all sorts of dumb parents who have no idea how to raise children. I don't know how to raise children either, but I'm sure I would do a better job than they do. These parents tend to be parents precisely because they are dumb. They love their kids, but they seem to love them in a way that aunts and uncles should love them, not the way parents should love them. They seem to have other relatives do most of the child rearing. And their kids have picked up or will pick up all the life-destroying habits of their dumb parents. I am a virgin, and their teenage kids are not. It doesn't seem fair that a responsible almost-college-grad like me doesn't have kids, when these morons are out there procreating all they want.
This week I took an editing test for the Joseph Smith Papers. Part of it was a spelling test--I had to correct misspelled words. One of the words was innocuous, which was spelled "inocuous." So I fixed it. But then in the editing test I came across inoculate, which I knew had only one n. I could see a relationship between those two words, so I second-guessed myself and took the second n out of innocuous, thus making it wrong instead of right. I also had never heard of the word bellwether, so that one I missed as well. Oh well. I don't have to be perfect. Just better than everyone else.
I have no idea where I will be in three months, whether I will be in Provo or North Salt Lake. I'm trying to find the good in either situation. If I lived at home, I would be able to finally get my room clean and spend more time with my family. If I stay in Provo, my social life would be better and I'm more likely to find a spouse. I have no idea where I will end up.
I'm so glad we made it through January. It really is the worst month.
Now I really am 25, just about to graduate. I wonder what age people think I am now. But I feel old. I know that all of you who are older than me are laughing at me. But in the world I'm in, I'm old. I see all the birth years for people whose records I bring into my ward, and most of the guys tend to be born in 1991 or 1992. I've seen girls born as late as 1995. I went into first grade in 1995. On Friday, in our French lab we were supposed to tell about our first day of college. One girl was a freshman, so her first day was only in September. My first day was January 4, 2010. On Friday night, we had a couscous party for my French class. Someone asked me if I knew someone from the Spokane mission, and I asked if he served more recently. He said, "No, he's been home two years." That's recent to me.
I have had classmates younger than me who not only are married but have kids. I don't really mind that I'm not married. (I do have one relative who, regardless of whether she actually thinks this, seems like she thinks my worth is dependent on my marital status. Maybe that's why she unfriended me this week.) However, I do sometimes worry about going through life without having a posterity. Especially when there are so many dumb people having babies.
There are all sorts of dumb parents who have no idea how to raise children. I don't know how to raise children either, but I'm sure I would do a better job than they do. These parents tend to be parents precisely because they are dumb. They love their kids, but they seem to love them in a way that aunts and uncles should love them, not the way parents should love them. They seem to have other relatives do most of the child rearing. And their kids have picked up or will pick up all the life-destroying habits of their dumb parents. I am a virgin, and their teenage kids are not. It doesn't seem fair that a responsible almost-college-grad like me doesn't have kids, when these morons are out there procreating all they want.
This week I took an editing test for the Joseph Smith Papers. Part of it was a spelling test--I had to correct misspelled words. One of the words was innocuous, which was spelled "inocuous." So I fixed it. But then in the editing test I came across inoculate, which I knew had only one n. I could see a relationship between those two words, so I second-guessed myself and took the second n out of innocuous, thus making it wrong instead of right. I also had never heard of the word bellwether, so that one I missed as well. Oh well. I don't have to be perfect. Just better than everyone else.
I have no idea where I will be in three months, whether I will be in Provo or North Salt Lake. I'm trying to find the good in either situation. If I lived at home, I would be able to finally get my room clean and spend more time with my family. If I stay in Provo, my social life would be better and I'm more likely to find a spouse. I have no idea where I will end up.
I'm so glad we made it through January. It really is the worst month.
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