03 February, 2009

My Last Words.

So I came upon this very funny blog via Ralphie recently. There, I read about a recent lesson in church in which Kristi's husband was required to imagine that he was dying and write 25 last words to his family. I thought this seemed like an interesting, albeit morbid exercise. Here is what I came up with.

"DESTROY MISSION JOURNALS. Mom: Sego yours now. Good luck. Dad: Be kind. Read Book of Mormon, whole thing. David, Carlos: drive safely. I love you."

If you have to ask why I want my mission journals destroyed, either you don't know me very well or I have purposefully avoided mentioning to you that my mission journals reveal a side of me that I am not proud of. This might also mean that I was writing mean and/or humiliating things about you. While a missionary. For God. Which makes any indiscretion infinitely worse. I am starting to hate myself just thinking about this. Maybe I should just destroy them now and save my family the trouble?

The only person I would want to give my dog to is my mom. She loves Sego too, and the guy she is marrying loves dogs, so this would theoretically work out quite nicely.

Also, I was wishing her luck in Phoenix and her new life in general, not in taking care of my dog.

My dad is Mormon, and yet has never read the Book of Mormon. This makes me sad. Additionally, he could stand to be a lot nicer.

I know my brothers will turn out just fine as long as they stay alive to the age of 30. However, I don't want them to feel left out. Leading cause of young American men? Car accidents. Voila.

For a moment there I actually started thinking about how beneficial it would be for my family if I died young and tragically. Bad thoughts out! Nothing would be worth that.

INFPs really ought not participate in activities like this. Never again...

3 comments:

Ashley said...

I'm pretty sure that we've already covered the fact that I'm to see to the destruction of mission journals.

And yes, I know. There's probably no shortage of jewels in there about me.

It kept you sane. Doesn't make you a bad person or a bad missionary. It did hurt my feelings once though when you left it out and open while you took a shower. I saw my name when I walked past to my desk and I couldn't help myself. You had a point though, and I felt like it was my punishment for letting my eyes wander onto your journal. I swear it was only the once! And I didn't even turn any pages!

theFinn said...

I think I wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to say complete gibberish that people will be trying to decode for centuries. And then, one day, someone will write a detective novel entitled "The Mystery of Great Aunt Vilja." Does that make me wicked? Luckily, If I die young, it will be due to ninjas, and they don't give you time to write notes.

Elisa said...

Wow. Sorry about that. You're right, though. Serves you right. I warned you.

What did it say?

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