They say that cats have seven lives. Wait, is it seven? I
think actually it’s nine. Let’s go with nine because nine is more than seven,
and we could all use more lives. My cat sure could use more lives right now
because if I catch her claws in my screen door just one more time, ima kill
her.
(Oh hey- good news for readers of my blog; my boss seems to
have disabled facebook on the company computer, so now I’ll be blogging instead
of stalking. Darn Boss. At least that’s what I’m hoping happened, otherwise
someone has hacked in and done something fishy. What are cookies, exactly?)
Anyhow. Lives. Yeah.
I think that some people have nine lives, too. Or five, or
seven or some only have maybe two, but I think that we all have multiple lives.
I’d say I’m on about life four. My happy darling childhood of yore was one, my wholly
miserable pre-teen years into my unhappy early twenties were the second,
followed by my missionary years as the third, and here I find myself at my
fourth. And you know, I can tell you day that I morphed from one to the other.
The events compiling which caused the evolution are long and staggered, but the
day of the change I can pinpoint.
From one to two it was one of the first days in fourth grade,
when I came home with my first ‘D’. It was on a math test. Multiplication. I
couldn’t handle those 7s and 8s. I remember my mom frustratedly smacking my arm
with a ruler.
“Seven times three is twenty-one! Why can’t you remember!? Are
you stupid!? Seven times three is twenty-one!”
The transition from the second to the third was two days
before I went into the MTC. I was worried to death, but also at peace with it.
I felt something warm and peaceful wash over me and it stayed inside of me for
the entirety of my mission. I liked who
I was then. I felt like the Mother Teresa.
The next one is as follows: I was up at Badger Creek, and I broke
the heart of Jack from Nebraska. And then, in turn, someone else returned the
favor to me, if not quite so badly, I think. Then one day, sitting in the
Temple, I had an epiphany (more on that in a minute). I would feel more, I don’t know….. feminine?...
if I could say that they broke my heart and the devastation changed me. But that wouldn’t actually be true. I know I
broke Jack’s heart and I’ll never forgive myself for it (neither will my
mother) altho I knew then as I know now it had to be done. And I did everything
to win the other guy’s heart; I was as perfect as June Cleaver. But ‘the day’
was actually the epiphany-in-the-temple day. I was sitting there and as I
prayed for God to soften my heart, to bend me to his will, to show me the way,
I looked up and looked around, and it was suddenly so obvious, so clear; I did
not belong there. The temple, the religion, was rejecting me the way that I had
rejected Jack and the way that the other guy rejected me. Staying in it would
be like staying in a bad, unhappy relationship.
So I left the cold, harsh light of that life and blundered
around in the dark warmth of the new world I had chosen. Right about now my eyes are starting to adjust.
Geez, my tummy hurts. (Yes, Chad, I’ve eaten today) I want
some Taco Bell. I don’t know why, but I am on a TACO BELL RAMPAGE. I have eaten
Taco Bell almost every day for two weeks. Shoot, what I wouldn’t do for a Taco
right now. D:!!!
Stinkin’ Boss. Why’d you have to go blocking FB like that?
Dagnab it.
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