Dober den, priyatelite mi y cemeistvoto mi! Kak e vsichko? Vyarvate li che tova e poslednita cedmitza b MTC??
Anyway. Enough of THAT, am I right? Allow me to tell you a story of something that happened to me just a minute ago. There I was, in the Celestial Laundry room that is the MTC laundry hole where I do my emailing. I had tucked myself into my favorite corner, near the glass window to the exit and stairs up to the real-people floor, with a Diet Coke (courtesy of the KITTENHAUS) chilling on the window shelf next to me. I saw, briefly, some kind of encounter going on outside the window between two sisters and a maintenance worker, the latter of which was a delightful, cheerful, Utah-mom type lady with a white tag and the kind of hair that says, "Yes, I have made at least two batches of brownies today." They talked, thanked her for some favor, and went cheerfully on their way. I saw the Hair Lady smile after them, glance around, and then make her way back up the stairs to humanity. But she paused, turned around, and came back to where I was, as if uncontrollably driven by a sudden fleeting urge. She poked her head into me and asked, "Excuse me, is that your Diet Coke?" I nodded, and smiled with the vigor and vim (IS THAT EVEN A WORD?) of someone whose job it is to testify of what is good and right (like Diet Coke, for instance). She smiled with the brightness of the noonday bleached whites, said "Good for you!" and then let out a laugh that was delightfully in between a leprechaun giggle, the mirthful laugh of the Keebler elves just discovering a new cookie made of leaves, and the sound of a rainbow falling in love with another rainbow. It was so cute! And nice! Diet Coke buddies!
Why did I share that story? Oh, I don't know. Partly because something like that could only really happen here. A lot of things are like that. Only here could the chorister announce the prelude hymn of "If You Could Pie to Cobbler" (editor's note: "If You Could Hie To Kolob")(you all know what I mean) and get the ENTIRE MTC of 2000 people start buzzing and talking excitedly as if Justin Timberlake were going to perform it. I guess I'm saying: 1) I actually like this place, and it's weird to me that I'm done with it a week from today, and 2) it's nice to bring stupid little moments of joy to people. And it's intimidating/exciting to know that that will be, primarily, my entire purpose and job for the next sixteen months. (Only sixteen! How did that happen?)
Now down to brass knuckles. We received travel plans last . . . Thursday? Telling us of the planned flight on the 14th to Bulgaria. And we celebrated a little too soon before sheepishly realizing that we didn't actually know about our visas yet, and therefore the travel plans were more like TRAVEL HOPES. E.G., USELESS!! Anyway. So the deal is: we will found out if we have our visas this Friday. If we do, we leave on Tuesday, getting up at 2 am to pass through Chicago and London. If we don't, and they know it will only take less than ten days for us to get them, we stay here for a little bit. If we don't have visas, and they know it will take more than ten days, we get reassigned to another stateside city for a little while until the visas come in. Exciting! Weird! I'm trying really hard not to think/obsess about it! Because it doesn't matter! And whatever happens is what God wants! The end. But I will let you know! Tune in next week! Either way, I guess what's cool is, as the little story above indicates, even in English, even wherever, I'm impossibly excited to be a missionary. I would serve in a Dump, Garbage-Speaking. That's how excited I am!
Also, if you have sent me a letter and not gotten back response, I'm sorrreeee! Some of them have gotten sent back to me, because the address was wrong (even though it was the address I was given...), so I couldn't send a reply. :( This applies to you, Kayanna! (I definitely know your address...so that's weird...I'm sorry! I love you and miss you!) Also, others, last pee day I was INCREDIBLY sick and had the energy of snail immediately after that snail goes to the snail gym and does fifty mission snail push ups, so I had to sleep most of the day and not write letters. So I'm a little behind. I will do my best! Also, regarding mail: I've heard differing reports, but I don't think you can really send me things through the normal mail real good in Bulge-area. So email me! Starting next week! I will let you know if the mail is better, though! I like mailll!!!
Anyway. This week is just kind of . . . follow the rules, get skirts altered, set an example, NOT think about visas, send home stuff unneeded, actually think about the reality of speaking Bulgarian soon, freak out. We taught Kosyo for the last time last night (weird!). It ended well.
I love you all, and want to hear from you! Many of you will hear from me! Don't stop believing! In God!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Penultimate Week!
Strasti priyatelite mi!
Oh, man. Where to begin. Are you tired of these "missionary" letters yet? Have you figured out that I am just in a large college/camp-style boarding school dealie where you can buy socks and there are 500 washers and dryers? Because that is where I am. Have you figured out that I spend all of my time in the same three buildings? (1M, 17M, 7M, for those interested/knowledgable.) Because I do. And the weird thing about it, as I'm sure some can attest to, is that I barely realize that anymore. My life here, in theory, is so repetitive, so rote but it never really feels that way. Time takes on a whole new meaning. The first two days here literally felt like two years, and then after that, time just sort of squeezed into a different shape and started going in a circle, speeding toward that horse doughnut center I mentioned last time. And now, it seems like it's literally p-day and then p-day over and over again, with like, one second in between. And we have ONE MORE ACTUAL WEEK here. If we get our visas, of course.
Oh yeah, so here's what's going to happen. I'm scheduled to leave on the 14th, but we don't know about our visas (we'll find out next week). If we don't have them, but the Church people are pretty sure we'll get them soon-ish, we'll spend an extra MTC week. And if they're pretty sure it will take more than 10 days for ye dokuments, then we'll go to some English-speaking mission place. I'll let you know! I'm sure your breath is BATED! (what does that even mean/did I spell it right?)
Um, okay. So the other day the MTC paged an elder named "Elder Gary Coleman" to come to the front desk. That was funny.
Secondly, I somehow only have one week left here? One real week? I guess that's a thing. And here's what's going to happen: when I get to Bug Area (or whatever Arizona city I temporarily go to), the real postal mail only comes every three months! So weird! So if you've ever wanted to send me an anything, now is the time to do it. Also here's what's going to happen: there are only 8 sisters in Bug Area at any given time, right? And when my companion and I get there, four will be on their way out. So we'll have a brief period of just us four, and then, in August, new missionaries will get there, so, ergo, my companion and I will be TRAINERS. In AUGUST. After like, FIVE MONTHS of being there. Weird. Man. It all seems so distant! And yet so close.
Also, I am not the coordinating sister anymore! Say goodbye to me keeping the "rules"! And being an "example"! Just kidding. I will still do that. But it was strange. I've been doing it for so long that it will feel weird to not just, like, keep telling people where the laundry soap can be purchased, etc. On the way out, man. One of the new Polish sisters, Sister Bezdjian will be doing that instead. Time marches on.
Mail shout outs! Bam, for her excellently-timed Valentine's Day package! And the strange Canadian "Mallow Cups" therein! (Which were actually very good.) And the enormous red fuzzy wig-style hat!! I am already famous for that hat. Also, Chioma - I'm sorry you haven't gotten my letters! I wrote you them? I'll write another one. Also, Stephanie Roche! Happy baby time! Hooray for baby time! (I hope I can write that on here. . . . is it a scandalous secret?) Finally, Natalie and co. for the excellent letter/card bomb! That made me so happy. I shall write back post haste.
This letter has no structure or form. I like that. Reminds me of me. Um, here is a scripture I like recently: Revelations 3:20-22. Basically, I like it because Jesus says he will invite us to have dinner with him! And that is metaphor, but also a real thing! Especially here, where meals are such a different affair (giant cafeteria! mint brownies! millions of people you don't know!), I've realized what an important bonding/sharing experience it is to sit down and eat with people (something something Joseph Campbell something something). And I like that image a lot. Jesus is our friend. I bet he makes great tacos.
Also, I'm sick (hopefully with just a cold). But at least I bonded over it with our investi-gator, Kosyo! Who was also sick the last time we taught him! And yesterday, we asked him to get baptized! What?? He said he wasn't ready yet, but we gave him a date in a month and he said he'll keep working with us (sucker!!! we won't because we're LEAVING!!). But it was cool. I guess you actually do that, in the missionary world.
So this Sundee, we're planning (the Bulgs) to bear our testimonies in Bulgarian for our last fast Sundee. So allow me to do the same here in closing:
Dokato jshivota mi, nikoga e promenil cvidetelstvoto mi povoche che cega b'MTCto. Uh oh, out of time. Better make this quick. Az znam che tazi tzurkvata e nai-istinscka tzurkvata, y monogo obicham tazi buzmoshnost koyato imam da sum tuka. Znam che mojem da shiveem sus Bok pak, sled tazi jivhot. B'imato na Isus Hristos, Amin.
She's so Lucky! She's a missionary! But she cry, cry, cries in her happy heart, thinking - yay! Missionaries! (I hope you got that Britney Spears reference.)
Love,
Cectra Campbell
Oh, man. Where to begin. Are you tired of these "missionary" letters yet? Have you figured out that I am just in a large college/camp-style boarding school dealie where you can buy socks and there are 500 washers and dryers? Because that is where I am. Have you figured out that I spend all of my time in the same three buildings? (1M, 17M, 7M, for those interested/knowledgable.) Because I do. And the weird thing about it, as I'm sure some can attest to, is that I barely realize that anymore. My life here, in theory, is so repetitive, so rote but it never really feels that way. Time takes on a whole new meaning. The first two days here literally felt like two years, and then after that, time just sort of squeezed into a different shape and started going in a circle, speeding toward that horse doughnut center I mentioned last time. And now, it seems like it's literally p-day and then p-day over and over again, with like, one second in between. And we have ONE MORE ACTUAL WEEK here. If we get our visas, of course.
Oh yeah, so here's what's going to happen. I'm scheduled to leave on the 14th, but we don't know about our visas (we'll find out next week). If we don't have them, but the Church people are pretty sure we'll get them soon-ish, we'll spend an extra MTC week. And if they're pretty sure it will take more than 10 days for ye dokuments, then we'll go to some English-speaking mission place. I'll let you know! I'm sure your breath is BATED! (what does that even mean/did I spell it right?)
Um, okay. So the other day the MTC paged an elder named "Elder Gary Coleman" to come to the front desk. That was funny.
Secondly, I somehow only have one week left here? One real week? I guess that's a thing. And here's what's going to happen: when I get to Bug Area (or whatever Arizona city I temporarily go to), the real postal mail only comes every three months! So weird! So if you've ever wanted to send me an anything, now is the time to do it. Also here's what's going to happen: there are only 8 sisters in Bug Area at any given time, right? And when my companion and I get there, four will be on their way out. So we'll have a brief period of just us four, and then, in August, new missionaries will get there, so, ergo, my companion and I will be TRAINERS. In AUGUST. After like, FIVE MONTHS of being there. Weird. Man. It all seems so distant! And yet so close.
Also, I am not the coordinating sister anymore! Say goodbye to me keeping the "rules"! And being an "example"! Just kidding. I will still do that. But it was strange. I've been doing it for so long that it will feel weird to not just, like, keep telling people where the laundry soap can be purchased, etc. On the way out, man. One of the new Polish sisters, Sister Bezdjian will be doing that instead. Time marches on.
Mail shout outs! Bam, for her excellently-timed Valentine's Day package! And the strange Canadian "Mallow Cups" therein! (Which were actually very good.) And the enormous red fuzzy wig-style hat!! I am already famous for that hat. Also, Chioma - I'm sorry you haven't gotten my letters! I wrote you them? I'll write another one. Also, Stephanie Roche! Happy baby time! Hooray for baby time! (I hope I can write that on here. . . . is it a scandalous secret?) Finally, Natalie and co. for the excellent letter/card bomb! That made me so happy. I shall write back post haste.
This letter has no structure or form. I like that. Reminds me of me. Um, here is a scripture I like recently: Revelations 3:20-22. Basically, I like it because Jesus says he will invite us to have dinner with him! And that is metaphor, but also a real thing! Especially here, where meals are such a different affair (giant cafeteria! mint brownies! millions of people you don't know!), I've realized what an important bonding/sharing experience it is to sit down and eat with people (something something Joseph Campbell something something). And I like that image a lot. Jesus is our friend. I bet he makes great tacos.
Also, I'm sick (hopefully with just a cold). But at least I bonded over it with our investi-gator, Kosyo! Who was also sick the last time we taught him! And yesterday, we asked him to get baptized! What?? He said he wasn't ready yet, but we gave him a date in a month and he said he'll keep working with us (sucker!!! we won't because we're LEAVING!!). But it was cool. I guess you actually do that, in the missionary world.
So this Sundee, we're planning (the Bulgs) to bear our testimonies in Bulgarian for our last fast Sundee. So allow me to do the same here in closing:
Dokato jshivota mi, nikoga e promenil cvidetelstvoto mi povoche che cega b'MTCto. Uh oh, out of time. Better make this quick. Az znam che tazi tzurkvata e nai-istinscka tzurkvata, y monogo obicham tazi buzmoshnost koyato imam da sum tuka. Znam che mojem da shiveem sus Bok pak, sled tazi jivhot. B'imato na Isus Hristos, Amin.
She's so Lucky! She's a missionary! But she cry, cry, cries in her happy heart, thinking - yay! Missionaries! (I hope you got that Britney Spears reference.)
Love,
Cectra Campbell
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Week the Sixth
Zdraveite priyatelite mi! Kak e fsichko? That's right, I'm this kind of person now. Owing to the fact that we have less than three real weeks left here (WE ARE ENGLISH MISSIONARIES NOW??), it has become necessary for me to keep up the facade of being a Bulgarian-speaker, for the purposes of practice. Do you see how convoluted my sentence structure has become???? This is what missionary work does to you. It's all "was restored to" and "appeared himself to" and strange reflexive phrases that circle, circle, circle within each other during lessons like so many horses walking in a circle, toward a single horse-doughnut in the middle of the circle.
'Round these parts, when somebody has taken upon themselves the most irritating of all oaths, that of only speaking their mission language in public (if I have one more Elder say "Hola, Hermana!!!" while holding the door open for me. . . why I'll . . . RESPECT them!), they wear a little tag of their own make that has the initials for "Speak Your Language" (SYL) on their actual Jesustag. So usually it's "HSI" for Spanish, or something unintelligible for Mandarin, or probably something looking like "GBE" for Bulgarian (Gavori Bashite Ezik). And so we do that. We do do that.
I've gotten over Sweatylawn's untimely death. Now his obituary, hanging in our classroom, is a friendly reminder of our teacher who plays him, Brother Purvis, and his inability to make serious faces, even while getting his engagement pictures taken. (BTW, as some of you wanted to know, these are my teachers: Brother Purvis, the Papa Bear, Brother Mattinson, the Mama Bear, and Brother Crowther, the Baby Bear, who can do a really good impression of a one-eyed stray Bulgarian cat. They're all good bros who understand the importance of burritos.)
I've also gotten over, mostly, anxiety about Bulgarian, owing to the fact that we actually don't have that much more to learn of the language? This seems impossible, but it is actually true. Nyama povoche chasti na Bulgarski che ne znam, vubreki che ne znam tazi chasti mnogo dobre. Does that make any sense, Bulgarian speakers? Don't tell anymore if it doesn't. Keep it sacred and safe.
We are falling into a routine, the three of us (three! I always forget how weird it is that I teach, learn, and am in a district with myself, one elder and one sister). We teach Kosyo, the friendly baby bear, who came to church on Sunday, and who seems to be progressing nicely. Last time we taught him, I got a burst of "creative" "idiocy" and pretended to invite him to a ward soccer activity of some kind!!! Because this whole "we have an actual ward you can be a part of" fascade is also something that needs to be practiced. So I said, "If you wants, we has a . . . time . . . of soccer. Saturday. With . . . the youngs." And he agreeeeeeeedd! To that insanity. So hooray for Kosyo. Also, Otetz Zahari (who is an Orthodox priest who thinks we're crazy but wants to know who Joseph Smith is; also, if you google "Bulgarian missionaries Orthodox church" you'll find an actual news incident with him) is doin' good. His name means "Father Sugars." That's all I want to say about that, because teaching an Orthodox priest is really hard. And finally, our resident mumbling atheist, Nikolai, agreed to come to church! And to pray to know if what we said was true! And I wanted to tell him about my grandpa Tom, as a way of explaining how I knew the Plan of Salvation was true (because his mom recently "died"), but I couldn't remember, in the crucial moment, how to say "grandpa." So I had to say "grandma." Ummmmmmm . . . . let's forget about that time. Nobody died! Yay! Glory for everyone!
The unfortunate part of falling into an empty sea routine is that it starts to get very repetitive/false-seeming/strange, as you can probably guess from my description of teaching fictional characters. It's like the waves of this empty sea keep smashing, smashing, smashing us against the shore of the lunchroom full of wilty salad and the classroom full of books and Bulgarian grammar and the constant ebb and flow of new elders and siters. Our three English sisters from our district flowed away this morning. :( And so did my dearest friend, Whitney Bush! Off to Milan, like a young fashionable sailor. I love that kid. She will do so good.
It's weird to be in here because you're always saying goodbyes, so it becomes really profound/normal. Like, "See you in heaven!" is something we legitimately say and mean to each other. Partly because we're Mormon and we know that we'll inevitably see each other again (at one of the BYUs, at one of the Temples, at one of the wards, married to one of our friends or somebody's cousins, etc) and partly because time loses a lot of its meaning here. Days seem about three weeks long, but also one second long. And it takes time to adjust to how different time is in here.
AHHHH! Why can't I write a decent letter to you all? Everyone read Alma 32. Just do it. Also, reading the Book of Mormon is the only way I've come up with, in 21 years, to remember who I am, how bad war is, how important women are, and how cyclical life is, ALL IN ONE BOOK. So read it. Regularly. On the reg.
Okay. I love you all. Thank you Kremlin for your package!!! IT WAS THE BREAST! I MEAN THE BEST! I WRITE TO YOU SOON! MOM, I LOVE YOU!
I am who I am, guys. In the tragically underquoted words of Britney Spears, What U See is What U Get.
'Round these parts, when somebody has taken upon themselves the most irritating of all oaths, that of only speaking their mission language in public (if I have one more Elder say "Hola, Hermana!!!" while holding the door open for me. . . why I'll . . . RESPECT them!), they wear a little tag of their own make that has the initials for "Speak Your Language" (SYL) on their actual Jesustag. So usually it's "HSI" for Spanish, or something unintelligible for Mandarin, or probably something looking like "GBE" for Bulgarian (Gavori Bashite Ezik). And so we do that. We do do that.
I've gotten over Sweatylawn's untimely death. Now his obituary, hanging in our classroom, is a friendly reminder of our teacher who plays him, Brother Purvis, and his inability to make serious faces, even while getting his engagement pictures taken. (BTW, as some of you wanted to know, these are my teachers: Brother Purvis, the Papa Bear, Brother Mattinson, the Mama Bear, and Brother Crowther, the Baby Bear, who can do a really good impression of a one-eyed stray Bulgarian cat. They're all good bros who understand the importance of burritos.)
I've also gotten over, mostly, anxiety about Bulgarian, owing to the fact that we actually don't have that much more to learn of the language? This seems impossible, but it is actually true. Nyama povoche chasti na Bulgarski che ne znam, vubreki che ne znam tazi chasti mnogo dobre. Does that make any sense, Bulgarian speakers? Don't tell anymore if it doesn't. Keep it sacred and safe.
We are falling into a routine, the three of us (three! I always forget how weird it is that I teach, learn, and am in a district with myself, one elder and one sister). We teach Kosyo, the friendly baby bear, who came to church on Sunday, and who seems to be progressing nicely. Last time we taught him, I got a burst of "creative" "idiocy" and pretended to invite him to a ward soccer activity of some kind!!! Because this whole "we have an actual ward you can be a part of" fascade is also something that needs to be practiced. So I said, "If you wants, we has a . . . time . . . of soccer. Saturday. With . . . the youngs." And he agreeeeeeeedd! To that insanity. So hooray for Kosyo. Also, Otetz Zahari (who is an Orthodox priest who thinks we're crazy but wants to know who Joseph Smith is; also, if you google "Bulgarian missionaries Orthodox church" you'll find an actual news incident with him) is doin' good. His name means "Father Sugars." That's all I want to say about that, because teaching an Orthodox priest is really hard. And finally, our resident mumbling atheist, Nikolai, agreed to come to church! And to pray to know if what we said was true! And I wanted to tell him about my grandpa Tom, as a way of explaining how I knew the Plan of Salvation was true (because his mom recently "died"), but I couldn't remember, in the crucial moment, how to say "grandpa." So I had to say "grandma." Ummmmmmm . . . . let's forget about that time. Nobody died! Yay! Glory for everyone!
The unfortunate part of falling into an empty sea routine is that it starts to get very repetitive/false-seeming/strange, as you can probably guess from my description of teaching fictional characters. It's like the waves of this empty sea keep smashing, smashing, smashing us against the shore of the lunchroom full of wilty salad and the classroom full of books and Bulgarian grammar and the constant ebb and flow of new elders and siters. Our three English sisters from our district flowed away this morning. :( And so did my dearest friend, Whitney Bush! Off to Milan, like a young fashionable sailor. I love that kid. She will do so good.
It's weird to be in here because you're always saying goodbyes, so it becomes really profound/normal. Like, "See you in heaven!" is something we legitimately say and mean to each other. Partly because we're Mormon and we know that we'll inevitably see each other again (at one of the BYUs, at one of the Temples, at one of the wards, married to one of our friends or somebody's cousins, etc) and partly because time loses a lot of its meaning here. Days seem about three weeks long, but also one second long. And it takes time to adjust to how different time is in here.
AHHHH! Why can't I write a decent letter to you all? Everyone read Alma 32. Just do it. Also, reading the Book of Mormon is the only way I've come up with, in 21 years, to remember who I am, how bad war is, how important women are, and how cyclical life is, ALL IN ONE BOOK. So read it. Regularly. On the reg.
Okay. I love you all. Thank you Kremlin for your package!!! IT WAS THE BREAST! I MEAN THE BEST! I WRITE TO YOU SOON! MOM, I LOVE YOU!
I am who I am, guys. In the tragically underquoted words of Britney Spears, What U See is What U Get.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Week Five--The Apex (or the Nadir?)!
Hello, friends, family and embarrassed stalkers, and Elder Bryce's dad! Thanks for reading my blerg!
So tomorrow I will have been in the MTCee-Lo for . . . well, a while. And tomorrow, I have exactly four weeks left. Who let THAT happen? I don't know. Already we have seen and let go of so many little boys off to their real grown-up mission worlds. And stayed here while they gallavant off into the sunset. Sniff. Our dearest friends the Poles left, along with the most recent English group in our zone. But on Wednesday, we got new Poles! And one of them has a master's degree in English and is a feminist! And I probably met her at BYU once! And we did yoga together at gym and freaked out all the people trying to do push-ups like normal people! It was great. Also, her two companions (so many threesome sister companionships 'round here) are also great and cool and give me sour watermelon candy. So all is well. It's just so cute to see new missionaries here! How did that happen? I feel like the old knowledgable lady?
Also, if any of you ever come to the Empty Sea, you will get two orientation meetings, on your first Wednesday and Thursday nights. On Thursday, there is a tour. Guess what???? As coordinating sister (like zone leader for girls, kinda, but with fewer magical priesthood powers), I give those orientation meetings! And I lead those tours! So think of me if you're ever on one, or if you ever come to the Empty Campus. As part of my coordinating sister duties, I make sure to ask many an awkward, somewhat-laugh-enducing question to those poor, terrified, adeneline-sated new elders and sisters. Like the time that we were doing a getting to know you dealy and an elder said he liked guns and hunting, and I said, really loudly without thinking, "DID YOU EVER KILL A MAN, JUST TO WATCH HIM DIE?" And there was a long silence/some hysterical laughter (mainly from me), and the MTC was never the same! Ha ha ha ha ha. Also, on Thursday, I told the entire new zone about my shaving strike. The Spirit moved me to tell them that. Also, when I give the residence hall tour, I once used our room as a bad example of what a door should look like (because technically you're not suppsed to decorate your door? I guess), because we used to have a picture of a kitten on it that I put there. Kittens!
Also, some mail shout-outs: Talory Jackboy, for her homemade peanut butter cups, crafty box, and HELLO KITTY STAMPS! I put one on our classroom door that says "Zdraveite Kotka!" with a picture of Hello Kitty there. GET IT? Also, ANNITZA FULLER! For her candy, loving note, cookies and care! She will be in here before you know it. Also, ALEX CHRISTMAN! For a huge box of ripped up tabloids and garbage! And many a chapstix, Dr. Pepper, important candy, SRIACHA! (it's already in our classroom, for emergencies), and many more! Man I loved that package. I also loved opening it and having everyone watch me go through a layer of straight garbage (old envelopes with shopping lists written on them, a single glove covered in cat hair, etc.) and going "Yay! Garbage!!!" and everyone getting confused at my genuine delight. Also, KAYANNA! (Beckel? Bad at spelling on this computer.) For her delightful card! I love you all.
HENNYWAY. In other news, there is a Word of Wisdom pamphlet the Church distributes to all of Eastern Europe with two Ukrainian volunteers posing on the cover, jogging in very hilarious Eastern-European-style sweatsuits. We (the Bulgarians) recently taped up the head of the male of that couple to the peephole in our classroom door, so when you look in, you just see this smiling Ukrainian guy's face all bulgy and distorted, all close-up. It is the best. Can you tell we just hit our halfway point?
A couple things. One of our investigators, Svetlan, recently died. Seriously. We went to go teach him, the day after having a TERRIBLE lesson in which I think he accused us of witchcraft, and found an obituary on the door of the room where we teach him. So this is a weird Bulgarian tradition that our teachers have told us a lot about. Apparently, there, everybody puts obituaries of ANYONE they know, right on their front door. And never take them down. And so doors will have, like, a mission really depressing obituaries, from many years ago, all covering their door. Weird? No, perfectly normal! Anyway, Svetlan died in a car accident, according to the (fake) obituary our teacher made for him. So . . . now he knows we were right! Ha ha ha :( Bad joke. Anyway. So that was kind of weird. We definitely have to take it to a new level with our teaching. Not that we're doing so badly that we killed someone off (I think our teacher just wanted to have practice with a different personality), but we've kind of coasted for a while, listening and comprehension-wise, and we'll be hearing real Bulgarian talked at us all day pretty soon so . . . it's starting to hit me that even putting a hilarious face in our peephole can't distract me from my missionary purpose.
On Sunday night, we had a devotional in which the speaker (the funny guy who came on Christmas, who makes Mormon messages) said something to us about angels being assigned to watch over us, as missionaries. And, a few hours later, I had this really strong confirmation that Grandpa Tom is definitely, definitely in the MTC with me. It's just undeniable. The way I write, think, work with others, have been influenced in ways I can't perfectly describe by him. And I know he's watching over me and proud of me. Does that make sense? It reminds me of a quote I read in PMG last night, by John Taylor, which I shall paraphrase: The greatest intelligence a person can have is to take a complicated spiritual principal and expound it so that even a little child could understand it. That's what I've had to do recently: acknowledge my overwhelming, spiritually-complicated thoughts about doctrines, and focus on their simplicity and purity and beauty, for the purpose of teaching and relating to other people.
ANYWAY. Serious times there for a minute. Actually, all the minutes. Because a mission is all serious times. Except for when you are leading an MTC tour and somebody asks, "Are we allowed to change clothes without our companion?" Ha ha ha ha. Yes you are.
I love you guys!
Write me! I'm in the MTC like yeah yeah yeah! (Usher...)
So tomorrow I will have been in the MTCee-Lo for . . . well, a while. And tomorrow, I have exactly four weeks left. Who let THAT happen? I don't know. Already we have seen and let go of so many little boys off to their real grown-up mission worlds. And stayed here while they gallavant off into the sunset. Sniff. Our dearest friends the Poles left, along with the most recent English group in our zone. But on Wednesday, we got new Poles! And one of them has a master's degree in English and is a feminist! And I probably met her at BYU once! And we did yoga together at gym and freaked out all the people trying to do push-ups like normal people! It was great. Also, her two companions (so many threesome sister companionships 'round here) are also great and cool and give me sour watermelon candy. So all is well. It's just so cute to see new missionaries here! How did that happen? I feel like the old knowledgable lady?
Also, if any of you ever come to the Empty Sea, you will get two orientation meetings, on your first Wednesday and Thursday nights. On Thursday, there is a tour. Guess what???? As coordinating sister (like zone leader for girls, kinda, but with fewer magical priesthood powers), I give those orientation meetings! And I lead those tours! So think of me if you're ever on one, or if you ever come to the Empty Campus. As part of my coordinating sister duties, I make sure to ask many an awkward, somewhat-laugh-enducing question to those poor, terrified, adeneline-sated new elders and sisters. Like the time that we were doing a getting to know you dealy and an elder said he liked guns and hunting, and I said, really loudly without thinking, "DID YOU EVER KILL A MAN, JUST TO WATCH HIM DIE?" And there was a long silence/some hysterical laughter (mainly from me), and the MTC was never the same! Ha ha ha ha ha. Also, on Thursday, I told the entire new zone about my shaving strike. The Spirit moved me to tell them that. Also, when I give the residence hall tour, I once used our room as a bad example of what a door should look like (because technically you're not suppsed to decorate your door? I guess), because we used to have a picture of a kitten on it that I put there. Kittens!
Also, some mail shout-outs: Talory Jackboy, for her homemade peanut butter cups, crafty box, and HELLO KITTY STAMPS! I put one on our classroom door that says "Zdraveite Kotka!" with a picture of Hello Kitty there. GET IT? Also, ANNITZA FULLER! For her candy, loving note, cookies and care! She will be in here before you know it. Also, ALEX CHRISTMAN! For a huge box of ripped up tabloids and garbage! And many a chapstix, Dr. Pepper, important candy, SRIACHA! (it's already in our classroom, for emergencies), and many more! Man I loved that package. I also loved opening it and having everyone watch me go through a layer of straight garbage (old envelopes with shopping lists written on them, a single glove covered in cat hair, etc.) and going "Yay! Garbage!!!" and everyone getting confused at my genuine delight. Also, KAYANNA! (Beckel? Bad at spelling on this computer.) For her delightful card! I love you all.
HENNYWAY. In other news, there is a Word of Wisdom pamphlet the Church distributes to all of Eastern Europe with two Ukrainian volunteers posing on the cover, jogging in very hilarious Eastern-European-style sweatsuits. We (the Bulgarians) recently taped up the head of the male of that couple to the peephole in our classroom door, so when you look in, you just see this smiling Ukrainian guy's face all bulgy and distorted, all close-up. It is the best. Can you tell we just hit our halfway point?
A couple things. One of our investigators, Svetlan, recently died. Seriously. We went to go teach him, the day after having a TERRIBLE lesson in which I think he accused us of witchcraft, and found an obituary on the door of the room where we teach him. So this is a weird Bulgarian tradition that our teachers have told us a lot about. Apparently, there, everybody puts obituaries of ANYONE they know, right on their front door. And never take them down. And so doors will have, like, a mission really depressing obituaries, from many years ago, all covering their door. Weird? No, perfectly normal! Anyway, Svetlan died in a car accident, according to the (fake) obituary our teacher made for him. So . . . now he knows we were right! Ha ha ha :( Bad joke. Anyway. So that was kind of weird. We definitely have to take it to a new level with our teaching. Not that we're doing so badly that we killed someone off (I think our teacher just wanted to have practice with a different personality), but we've kind of coasted for a while, listening and comprehension-wise, and we'll be hearing real Bulgarian talked at us all day pretty soon so . . . it's starting to hit me that even putting a hilarious face in our peephole can't distract me from my missionary purpose.
On Sunday night, we had a devotional in which the speaker (the funny guy who came on Christmas, who makes Mormon messages) said something to us about angels being assigned to watch over us, as missionaries. And, a few hours later, I had this really strong confirmation that Grandpa Tom is definitely, definitely in the MTC with me. It's just undeniable. The way I write, think, work with others, have been influenced in ways I can't perfectly describe by him. And I know he's watching over me and proud of me. Does that make sense? It reminds me of a quote I read in PMG last night, by John Taylor, which I shall paraphrase: The greatest intelligence a person can have is to take a complicated spiritual principal and expound it so that even a little child could understand it. That's what I've had to do recently: acknowledge my overwhelming, spiritually-complicated thoughts about doctrines, and focus on their simplicity and purity and beauty, for the purpose of teaching and relating to other people.
ANYWAY. Serious times there for a minute. Actually, all the minutes. Because a mission is all serious times. Except for when you are leading an MTC tour and somebody asks, "Are we allowed to change clothes without our companion?" Ha ha ha ha. Yes you are.
I love you guys!
Write me! I'm in the MTC like yeah yeah yeah! (Usher...)
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Sister Campbell--Weel 4! LA Edition!
Here's a missionary joke for you, at the end of my fourth week: what did the missionary say to the other missionary? Answer: Let's go get some gum and chew it in secret! Ha hahaha. Get it? Because we're not allowed to chew gum.
So a whirlwind of activity has happened since I last wrote! Um...I didn't chew gum. But I did drink some actual, caffeinated Diet Coat! (Coke.) How, you ask, HOW? Well, we got a notice in our collective tiny mailing box on Tuesday that we were finally going to L.A. to do the visa thang that Friday! The most recent Friday. So we did! It was like two pee days in one week! And many good times were had. We got up at 5 and went to the travel office like everyone leaving for Bolivia/Mexico/Phillipines that day, and then we DIDN'T BRING LUGGAGE! The whole day was kind of one giant awkward confusing encounter with people who thought we were really on our way out to the mission filled (field). But nice anyway. We rode in a creepy white unmarked van DOWN UNIVERSITY PARKWAY (I used to drive there! I know that street!) and then down UNIVERSITY AVENUE (I was there! You all were there!). Needless to say, I was like an excited puppy with my head out the window, looking excitedly at the real world of LIGHTS and PEOPLE and SUB PLACES.
And then we waited for like 1098345092834 hours for our plane to get there (stupid pragmatic 'early' Church Travel). With an elder who was actually on his way out to the filled, in Japan. Tokyo. And we had to say, "Yeah, we have seven more weeks...but it's cool that you're leaving!" And I drank a Diet Coat on the plane and almost died of joy! Oh man. Then we almost didn't get on our little mini bus at LAX because the driver talked too fast and non-Utah-y for any of our tiny baby MTC ears to understand/we were intimidated. But then we were off! Driving through Las Angeles! And it was like 70 degrees! Global warming we're all gonna die!
The Bulgarian "consulate" experience was pretty hilarious. We got security cleared into this shiny office building (with palm trees outside of it! Oh boy!) and up to the millionth floor, and the consulate, as expected, was in fact a tiny, perhaps bathroom-sized office building, with a ragged Bug-larian flag on one wall and a plant taking up most of the floor. Three clearly-native Bulgarians were there, probably renewing visas to go visit? The one dude had the HUGEST EYEBROWS EVER. This was the most exciting part of the trip, maybe. Or maybe the whole week. THOSE EYEBROWS. GOOD. GRAVY. LIKE A HAIRY ANTELOPE OVER EACH EYE. And our teachers tell us that all Bulge-arians are like that. So I have that to look forward to!
We literally signed and dated one document and then left. The tradition of past Bulge-arian groups was to go to In-And-Out, but PLEASE. Come ON. So we had a plan long ago to ask our driver to go to a good Mexican place (MTC food hasn't quite learned how to be 'flavorful' yet, certainly not 'spicy''). So we went to Benito's Tacos, which turns out to be medium-famous, somewhere around Santa Monica, surrounded by sk8ter kidz STARING at us. We stuck out pretty bad. And then we flew home!!! The end.
Also, here is a little tidbit. For 2 hours a day (1?) we do this thing called "TALL" (technology-assisted language learning) which is where we sit at computer labs and listen to a robot say "smurt. smurt. smurt." (death in Bulgarian) over and over. Or whatever words/sentences we're learning. But recently, I've imagined that since I am not that 'tall,' during this lab I should go into a room and be stretched out by those medieval stretching things to attempt to get more 'tall.' That's MY kind of TALL lab! Ha ha ha. I saved that joke just for you.
Also, remember that kitten stationery? (SEND ME MORE IF IT.) I took the kitten picture off the cover and put it on the door of our room, along with a post-it saying 2 Nephi 2:27? (wherever talks about lions lying down with lambs). And also post-its that spell out KOTKA! So with that and my leopard footied pajamas, we are definitely the cat lady room of the floor.
In conclusion, we now teach three (3) investigators (prouchvateli) on a daily basis. One is named Svetlan (I call him "Sweaty Lawn," but not to his face) and he struggles with the recent death of his son and wife, as well as praying to St. Nikolai. One is named Nikolai, ironically, and is a womanizing atheist we met in the "park" on New Year's. He still doesn't believe in God. But whatever! And the last is named Kosyo. He just got divorced, and is pretty strongly Orthodox, but is interested in reading the Book of Mormon. Who ISN'T! Am I right? Anyway. Since the fourth elder in our district just left, we now teach them as a three some (me, Sister Farnsworth, and Elder Bryce). It's pretty weird/cool. I guess I . . . can sort of speak Bulgarian?
I love all of your letters and packages and want to hear from you! How is the Ovorp? How is the Seattle? Send me socks?
I love you guys! Tonight, DJ got us falling in love again (with the Gospel of Christ)!
So a whirlwind of activity has happened since I last wrote! Um...I didn't chew gum. But I did drink some actual, caffeinated Diet Coat! (Coke.) How, you ask, HOW? Well, we got a notice in our collective tiny mailing box on Tuesday that we were finally going to L.A. to do the visa thang that Friday! The most recent Friday. So we did! It was like two pee days in one week! And many good times were had. We got up at 5 and went to the travel office like everyone leaving for Bolivia/Mexico/Phillipines that day, and then we DIDN'T BRING LUGGAGE! The whole day was kind of one giant awkward confusing encounter with people who thought we were really on our way out to the mission filled (field). But nice anyway. We rode in a creepy white unmarked van DOWN UNIVERSITY PARKWAY (I used to drive there! I know that street!) and then down UNIVERSITY AVENUE (I was there! You all were there!). Needless to say, I was like an excited puppy with my head out the window, looking excitedly at the real world of LIGHTS and PEOPLE and SUB PLACES.
And then we waited for like 1098345092834 hours for our plane to get there (stupid pragmatic 'early' Church Travel). With an elder who was actually on his way out to the filled, in Japan. Tokyo. And we had to say, "Yeah, we have seven more weeks...but it's cool that you're leaving!" And I drank a Diet Coat on the plane and almost died of joy! Oh man. Then we almost didn't get on our little mini bus at LAX because the driver talked too fast and non-Utah-y for any of our tiny baby MTC ears to understand/we were intimidated. But then we were off! Driving through Las Angeles! And it was like 70 degrees! Global warming we're all gonna die!
The Bulgarian "consulate" experience was pretty hilarious. We got security cleared into this shiny office building (with palm trees outside of it! Oh boy!) and up to the millionth floor, and the consulate, as expected, was in fact a tiny, perhaps bathroom-sized office building, with a ragged Bug-larian flag on one wall and a plant taking up most of the floor. Three clearly-native Bulgarians were there, probably renewing visas to go visit? The one dude had the HUGEST EYEBROWS EVER. This was the most exciting part of the trip, maybe. Or maybe the whole week. THOSE EYEBROWS. GOOD. GRAVY. LIKE A HAIRY ANTELOPE OVER EACH EYE. And our teachers tell us that all Bulge-arians are like that. So I have that to look forward to!
We literally signed and dated one document and then left. The tradition of past Bulge-arian groups was to go to In-And-Out, but PLEASE. Come ON. So we had a plan long ago to ask our driver to go to a good Mexican place (MTC food hasn't quite learned how to be 'flavorful' yet, certainly not 'spicy''). So we went to Benito's Tacos, which turns out to be medium-famous, somewhere around Santa Monica, surrounded by sk8ter kidz STARING at us. We stuck out pretty bad. And then we flew home!!! The end.
Also, here is a little tidbit. For 2 hours a day (1?) we do this thing called "TALL" (technology-assisted language learning) which is where we sit at computer labs and listen to a robot say "smurt. smurt. smurt." (death in Bulgarian) over and over. Or whatever words/sentences we're learning. But recently, I've imagined that since I am not that 'tall,' during this lab I should go into a room and be stretched out by those medieval stretching things to attempt to get more 'tall.' That's MY kind of TALL lab! Ha ha ha. I saved that joke just for you.
Also, remember that kitten stationery? (SEND ME MORE IF IT.) I took the kitten picture off the cover and put it on the door of our room, along with a post-it saying 2 Nephi 2:27? (wherever talks about lions lying down with lambs). And also post-its that spell out KOTKA! So with that and my leopard footied pajamas, we are definitely the cat lady room of the floor.
In conclusion, we now teach three (3) investigators (prouchvateli) on a daily basis. One is named Svetlan (I call him "Sweaty Lawn," but not to his face) and he struggles with the recent death of his son and wife, as well as praying to St. Nikolai. One is named Nikolai, ironically, and is a womanizing atheist we met in the "park" on New Year's. He still doesn't believe in God. But whatever! And the last is named Kosyo. He just got divorced, and is pretty strongly Orthodox, but is interested in reading the Book of Mormon. Who ISN'T! Am I right? Anyway. Since the fourth elder in our district just left, we now teach them as a three some (me, Sister Farnsworth, and Elder Bryce). It's pretty weird/cool. I guess I . . . can sort of speak Bulgarian?
I love all of your letters and packages and want to hear from you! How is the Ovorp? How is the Seattle? Send me socks?
I love you guys! Tonight, DJ got us falling in love again (with the Gospel of Christ)!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
January 8, 2012 Update
Here are a few highlights from Eliza's latest letter to the family:
I got assigned to be a coordinating sister and released as music coordinator. So I'm kind of like a zone leader and tonight I led all the new elders and sisters on an orientation/tour. Weird. I'm the experienced one now?
. . .
We go to LA on Friday (1/6/2012) for to do our final visa papes! And fly back the same day! Wooooo Mexican food!
. . .
I got assigned to be a coordinating sister and released as music coordinator. So I'm kind of like a zone leader and tonight I led all the new elders and sisters on an orientation/tour. Weird. I'm the experienced one now?
. . .
We go to LA on Friday (1/6/2012) for to do our final visa papes! And fly back the same day! Wooooo Mexican food!
. . .
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Sister Campbell--Week 3!
It is me again! You can't avoid me! Ooh, I just found a bouncy ball on the table next to this computer station I'm at. Cool! Perhaps it is my liahona?
So, here I am at the end of THREE WEEKS at the EMPTY SEA. How did it happen, you ask? I don't really know. If I were going to Denver or Winnipeg like some of the Elders in my district, I would be getting ready to get on a plane tomorrow and go out into the real, embarrassing, Facebook-saturated world. But instead, I'm getting ready to get plain...tired of eating brownies for dinner! Ha ha ha ha ha. Just plain tired.
Seriously, I am having some food times issues here. Please do not misread this as one of those "MTC food is gross I'm a big whiner blah blah blah America BEEF FOREVER!!!" complaints. I'm grateful and amazed by the huge, diverse selection of food available to me three times a day every day. But for some reason, my brain is regressing psychologically somewhat to the point that only desserts really look appealing to me in here? Some times salads, sometimes wraps. It's like I'm the UPN show "Girlfriends" in here!!! (Please get that, everyone.) Maybe it's all the not-Diet Coat I've been drinking. Who knows. The point is, my companion and I were walking home yesterday at 9:30, and I looked down and said "WHY am I always covered in cookie crumbs and hair????" and she laughed. Because it's true. Called to serve him, Heavenly King of Cookies.
So what happened this week you ask? What DIDN'T happen!! Well, we didn't go to L.A. That didn't happen. I guess because of the travel week/holidayz/drunk security guards at airports, they decided not to have us fly yet. So we'll probably go next week? I dunno. There's a better-than-good chance that we'll have some kind of visa delays and end up in Chicago or Tulsa like some of the Bulgarian missionaries have done before, for a few weeks or a transfer. But I don't really even care anymore. In fact, I kind of like the idea of being an English-speaking missionary for a little while. One of the things I've learned is that there are definitely reasons I was called to Bulgaria, and especially to a kind-of-weird language. I tend to be overly wordy/confusing/rambly when I describe things to people/write papers/take the SAT/write letters home. And in Bulgarian, I really can't do that. I have to figure out the simplest possible way to say everything, which it turns out is actually the best way to say everything, when it comes to the Gorpsle. So even if I'm saying "You may you feel good in you when Ghost that is Holy is here," it makes more of an impact sometimes, than any amount of flowery normal-Eliza sentences could. ALTHOUGH I would also enjoy the opportunity to preach in English, because it would be so different. So you see, everything works out in the end. The end.
Hey guess who gets the letter shout-out of the week? Rachel Wise, the best T.A./friend/brownie-maker I've ever had at once! Can somebody make sure the Wises are getting these letters? Just in case? Man. I was grateful for that. I was also grateful for all of your Dear Eldereses/letters over Christmas. Also, they didn't let us stay up until midnight on New Year's Eve (Chetira Nova Godina!). Instead, we spent the evening "contacting" a "new" "investigator" (walking by a classroom where our teacher was sitting in a desk pretending to be in a park, and then pretending to be an atheist named Nikolai who wanted to meet with us). It's all very surreal in here. So when we got back and it was about to turn 10:00, my East-Coast roommate going to Ukraine said "The ball's about to drop!" So we all counted that down instead. And after everyone said Happy New Year! at the stroke of ten, I waited and then said, "This years sucks already. Worst year ever!!!!!" as my first words for the innauguration of 2012. And I'm sticking to it!! Just kidding. I like 2012 so far. So symmetrical. Also, what on earth is the Utah weather doing? It's like . . . sunny? And warm? And not icy and death-filled? The one year I don't have to walk to BYU campus every morning? Thanks a LOT, Thor, God of Thunder and Ice! Just kidding. I would never thank Thor. He's a jerk.
Um, so we teach three investigators a day now, every day. In Bulgarian. They just kind of sneaked that up on us. And now all of a sudden we actually have to "teach" and "say" things to people other than "Where are you from? Yes! Good!" It turns out, it's pretty hard to say, "Because of Jesus Christ's atonement, our sins are absolved if we follow the commandments." Even in English it's hard to say that. So when I tried to say that this week, it was this instead: "Because Jesus Christ die, atonement, bad things us is good if we make commandment." That was literally what I said. Lit'rally. Also, the word in Bulgarian for 'to atone' is actually 'to commit an atonement.' Bulgarian is the most verb-heavy language I've ever . . . seen? There is a verb for "to not have." There is a verb for "to be confused." Everything you think, you do. Very Eastern European. Da?
I dunno. Time goes very fast and very slow in here. It's strange. I sometimes am overwhelmed with how much I miss everyone and how long it's going to be before I see everyone again. And sometimes it feels like time is rocketing right along and Jesus will be returning to the earth before I know it. A combination of both, perhaps?
Spiritual thought of the week: everybody read Moroni 10. And then think about going on a mission. We need more different kinds of missionaries 'round here. All of you.
I love you guys! Don't stop believing! (In the Savior.) Don't stop till you get enough! (Inspiration from the Spirit.) Oops I did it again! (Prayed.)
Write 2 me! Vseechko hubavo!
So, here I am at the end of THREE WEEKS at the EMPTY SEA. How did it happen, you ask? I don't really know. If I were going to Denver or Winnipeg like some of the Elders in my district, I would be getting ready to get on a plane tomorrow and go out into the real, embarrassing, Facebook-saturated world. But instead, I'm getting ready to get plain...tired of eating brownies for dinner! Ha ha ha ha ha. Just plain tired.
Seriously, I am having some food times issues here. Please do not misread this as one of those "MTC food is gross I'm a big whiner blah blah blah America BEEF FOREVER!!!" complaints. I'm grateful and amazed by the huge, diverse selection of food available to me three times a day every day. But for some reason, my brain is regressing psychologically somewhat to the point that only desserts really look appealing to me in here? Some times salads, sometimes wraps. It's like I'm the UPN show "Girlfriends" in here!!! (Please get that, everyone.) Maybe it's all the not-Diet Coat I've been drinking. Who knows. The point is, my companion and I were walking home yesterday at 9:30, and I looked down and said "WHY am I always covered in cookie crumbs and hair????" and she laughed. Because it's true. Called to serve him, Heavenly King of Cookies.
So what happened this week you ask? What DIDN'T happen!! Well, we didn't go to L.A. That didn't happen. I guess because of the travel week/holidayz/drunk security guards at airports, they decided not to have us fly yet. So we'll probably go next week? I dunno. There's a better-than-good chance that we'll have some kind of visa delays and end up in Chicago or Tulsa like some of the Bulgarian missionaries have done before, for a few weeks or a transfer. But I don't really even care anymore. In fact, I kind of like the idea of being an English-speaking missionary for a little while. One of the things I've learned is that there are definitely reasons I was called to Bulgaria, and especially to a kind-of-weird language. I tend to be overly wordy/confusing/rambly when I describe things to people/write papers/take the SAT/write letters home. And in Bulgarian, I really can't do that. I have to figure out the simplest possible way to say everything, which it turns out is actually the best way to say everything, when it comes to the Gorpsle. So even if I'm saying "You may you feel good in you when Ghost that is Holy is here," it makes more of an impact sometimes, than any amount of flowery normal-Eliza sentences could. ALTHOUGH I would also enjoy the opportunity to preach in English, because it would be so different. So you see, everything works out in the end. The end.
Hey guess who gets the letter shout-out of the week? Rachel Wise, the best T.A./friend/brownie-maker I've ever had at once! Can somebody make sure the Wises are getting these letters? Just in case? Man. I was grateful for that. I was also grateful for all of your Dear Eldereses/letters over Christmas. Also, they didn't let us stay up until midnight on New Year's Eve (Chetira Nova Godina!). Instead, we spent the evening "contacting" a "new" "investigator" (walking by a classroom where our teacher was sitting in a desk pretending to be in a park, and then pretending to be an atheist named Nikolai who wanted to meet with us). It's all very surreal in here. So when we got back and it was about to turn 10:00, my East-Coast roommate going to Ukraine said "The ball's about to drop!" So we all counted that down instead. And after everyone said Happy New Year! at the stroke of ten, I waited and then said, "This years sucks already. Worst year ever!!!!!" as my first words for the innauguration of 2012. And I'm sticking to it!! Just kidding. I like 2012 so far. So symmetrical. Also, what on earth is the Utah weather doing? It's like . . . sunny? And warm? And not icy and death-filled? The one year I don't have to walk to BYU campus every morning? Thanks a LOT, Thor, God of Thunder and Ice! Just kidding. I would never thank Thor. He's a jerk.
Um, so we teach three investigators a day now, every day. In Bulgarian. They just kind of sneaked that up on us. And now all of a sudden we actually have to "teach" and "say" things to people other than "Where are you from? Yes! Good!" It turns out, it's pretty hard to say, "Because of Jesus Christ's atonement, our sins are absolved if we follow the commandments." Even in English it's hard to say that. So when I tried to say that this week, it was this instead: "Because Jesus Christ die, atonement, bad things us is good if we make commandment." That was literally what I said. Lit'rally. Also, the word in Bulgarian for 'to atone' is actually 'to commit an atonement.' Bulgarian is the most verb-heavy language I've ever . . . seen? There is a verb for "to not have." There is a verb for "to be confused." Everything you think, you do. Very Eastern European. Da?
I dunno. Time goes very fast and very slow in here. It's strange. I sometimes am overwhelmed with how much I miss everyone and how long it's going to be before I see everyone again. And sometimes it feels like time is rocketing right along and Jesus will be returning to the earth before I know it. A combination of both, perhaps?
Spiritual thought of the week: everybody read Moroni 10. And then think about going on a mission. We need more different kinds of missionaries 'round here. All of you.
I love you guys! Don't stop believing! (In the Savior.) Don't stop till you get enough! (Inspiration from the Spirit.) Oops I did it again! (Prayed.)
Write 2 me! Vseechko hubavo!
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