I suppose I ought to have some kind of introduction.
Hello. I’m Rachel.
Now that I’ve introduced myself, let’s get on with it, shall we?
It’s been 9 days since I got back from New Jersey. (For any who stumble here without prior knowledge, I’ve been spending the past year and a half as a Mormon missionary.) And let’s just say, I think I’m adjusting quite well, all things considered.
I’m taking to Utah like a fish takes to sand. It’s familiar. Seen it before. Kind of comforting, in some ways. It’s just hard to breathe, is all.
And no, I’m not exactly dying here. I like it. (I especially enjoy listening to rock music again.) But after a year and a half of running as hard and as far and as long as I can and teaching and testifying till I’m blue in the face… it’s just a little weird to be doing things like checking facebook, going places alone, watching movies, and wearing pants.
My biggest breath of fresh air was a couple days ago, eating breakfast at Kneader’s in St. George, when a couple sitting behind us struck up a conversation. As we spoke, she started asking questions about Mormon beliefs, and what was the Atonement of Jesus Christ all about, and do you really believe that He suffered for our sins? It was really cool to be able to testify of Christ in the middle of a pancake breakfast – and funny for me to realize, as my parents and I answered her questions, that she was asking doctrinal questions to 3 returned missionaries.
Aside from Larry and Betty, however, I haven’t had a whole lot of good missionary experiences in a while. It still makes me feel really weird when I pass a chapel and don’t know the name of the building. It makes me feel even weirder when I pass another one two blocks later. It’s a feeling somewhere between the utopia of Zion and the creepy same-itude of Edward Scissorhands.
I’m still going running every day, and I’m still having scripture study every day, though not always for an hour. And my parents and I have entered a weight-loss challenge one against another. (For every 5 pounds I lose, I get a CD.) But I still have about 9 extra hours on my hands every day that I don’t know what to do with.
And so the job hunt begins! A job potentially fills two voids in my life: 1. I’m bored. 2. I’m poor. I spent today polishing a resumé until it shone like a light-bulb, and in a few weeks, I return to full-world-activity, armed with money, power, and significantly more idea what to do with the time on my hands.
In the meantime, I do so enjoy making things go boom when I have too much time on my hands. And I discovered several days ago that I’m not a bad shot with a .22 handgun, even when I shoot from the hip. So do let me know if there’s anybody hiring a new sheriff of the martial law variety. I think I could pull it off, if I found me some spurs. ◊