hell, Provo, or home

Good morning, comrades. Life is divine.

Went to see The Interpreter with 'Brozy at the dollar theatre Saturday night. My feelings on it, as I related to her immediately thereafter, largely echo my feelings on life in general: constantly confusing, really sad at the end, and entirely lacking in making out. (Psh, people, crippling emotional trauma only deepens your need for endorphins.) Seriously, though, enjoyable movie, even if I'm grumpy at them for twice relying in "plot twists" on the audience's hesitance to accept an obvious conclusion as a correct one. Man, stories in which people don't trust blue drive me nuts. Hint: the C.I.A. and the Jedi Council are good. Don't run away from them, don't keep secrets from them, and for mercy's sakes, don't take a lightsaber to them. In Anakin's defense, Yoda wasn't the only green one in Episode III. Bleaugh, manipulation. I recognize that full disclosure isn't always right, but I do so with disappointment. (If, admittedly, far less disappointment than that upon finding Cold Stone Creamery closed after the movie.)

Sunday was the morality talk. I now consider doublethink among the Gifts of the Spirit; I don't believe the unaided mind capable of simultaneously holding "If you haven't sinned, remember that sexual indiscretions almost always cause serious problems in marriage" and "If you have sinned, remember that there is hope, that you can still marry the best person you can imagine, and that he or she should be understanding if you have fully repented." I also was kind of disappointed that he cited the transience of physicality as a foundation for a relationship in decrying fornication; I would hope that physical affection outlasts physical infatuation in marriage, and wish he'd instead told us the value of beginning that relationship unjaded by prejudices and expectations. Good talk in general, though, and I really like the fellow either way.

My blue roommate, bless his heart, set up all our home teaching appointments for this month, so I followed along to our last two homes Sunday afternoon. Basic outline: President Faust gave a rather more objective, suggestion-oriented look at solace than President Monson. Warren Johnson showed us that not only will trials come even to the righteous, but that peace doesn't help us shed sorrow, but endure it. Sunday school answers are cool. Trials bring focus in teaching us that serving people makes us happy. Prayer and Jesus make up the rest. Went well, I think; nice girls. Helping some of them move.

Did FHE stuff today, mostly. Also had a cone of strawberry ice cream from the Creamery when I went up on campus to print the fliers, mmmm. Blue roommate kindly told me at six that Simpsons was on, changed the channel to Fox, and left the room. I dig the trash out of Simpsons lately. Julie and I tried to organize a water-balloon fight for FHE, but the oranges decided we would play the toss, step backward, repeat game instead. Glad I left early. Relieved to hear from blue roommate that Julie handled it well.

Car accidents drive me nuts. Well, I don't become agitated; I actually go very purple. They're just frustrating. I think that in general, I'm very unattached to temporal possessions. However, when a moment's indecision costs thousands of dollars, I can't help but lament, not at personal loss, but the seemingly senseless destruction. To what purpose is this waste? It might have been sold for much, and given to the poor.

Guess two months was far too generous an estimate for the coming of awesomehood.