Life is always better and duller than I make it sound.

Some things are going wrong, but a lot is going right, and everything that's going wrong is going wrong in a very predictable way. Which makes it better, just knowing that it's to be expected. I miss feeling like my life matters to someone else. I miss having something meaningful to do with myself. I know I'm supposed to be saving for college... but I haven't needed money for anything in so long that it's kind of meaningless to me. I just work because it's a respectable way to spend my time, and I won't get yelled at.

But I'm getting more creative. I finally got my temple recommend renewed today, and President Jibson had good counsel. He said, "You get home from your mission and the spiritual part of you becomes, well, just a part of you. And it feels so wrong, naturally; but eventually you have to realize that this is the way God planned it, this is how we're meant to live." It was like Eden, in retrospect... no life, no problems, nothing to worry about--but we aren't meant to stay in Eden forever. So here I am in the lone and dreary world and trying to get used to it (but not too used to it).

The main talk in church this week was on sustaining your bishop and accepting callings, which was helpful because immediately afterward, Brother Bickmore called me into the clerk's office to ask me to serve as the Blazer scoutleader. I asked him, "So... the blazers are the--"

"Eleven-year-olds, yeah."

My stomach ate my heart, but after listening to a forty minute talk on the subject, you say "yes", and enthusiastically, if you can. "Someone will be there to help me get started, right?"

"Of course!" he said, with a look that said, What kind of people do you think we are?

So I got there early tonight (hoping to draw first blood, I guess); and it wasn't all that bad. Kyle (who is very excited for the changing of the guard) was a lifesaver. The key is low expectations, I think. You spend fifteen minutes just trying to settle them down, then you give up and spend ten minutes pretending to tie knots, and another ten minutes wrapping it up. No sweat. AND I SAW A GIRL THERE! She was kind of cute, so I took Kyle aside and said, "So... this could be really dumb--how old is that Rachel girl?"

He shook his head and gave me a commiserating look. "Yeah. she's sixteen."

So here I am doing the math on my hands: '17, 18, 19, 20, 21... five years. Five is a lot of years.' That's a good three out of my range; but not out of his, apparently, because he followed up with, "But she's really mature for her age." I can't believe sixteen was five years ago. I assumed I would feel cooler by now.

I don't think I've met a single girl in the 18-to-25 demographic yet. There have been false calls... you see a girl across the chapel who looks like she might have potential, and then you walk past her in the hall and notice that she's in her early thirties and wearing a wedding ring and toting Baby Number Four on her hip. Disheartening. But it's only been a month, after all.

And I made the happy discovery that it's a lot easier to re-learn the guitar than it was to learn it. It was exhilarating to feel it all come back. The prospect of paying taxes and buying gasoline is having an impact on my political opinions. I'm going to have an adventure this week.

--Kevin