Over the past month I've read the first twelve Wheel of Time books and it's all Kyle's fault. (Dammit Kyle!) He was excited about them at BYU for reasons that, having read the series, I don't understand. Nevertheless, pretty much every free minute for weeks has gone into finishing that series, which came after finishing the first couple fistfuls of the Desden Files books, which Kirk recommended. Which came after the Tru Blood marathon, which Mark recommended. Which came after the Big Bang Theory marathon, which Christian recommended. Which . . . you get the idea.

Following recommendations is what I do, apparently. Something that can enrich an existing relationship gets precedence. All other things appearing equal, a friend's recommendation makes a thing pop--and yeah, most things appear equally appealing, or unappealing.

***

I have a red shirt I bought in New York just before I came to Japan. It feels like it's hugging me and whispering compliments to my soul when I wear it.

***

I went to Mormon church today. (No one ever recommends this.) 

This morning I woke up two hours before my alarm, laid in bed for two hours watching Youtube videos, and then went to the chapel. Sunday school was taught by the missionaries, in English, to me and a visiting girl and a guy who either wants to improve his decent English or is a ward missionary or both. 

The lesson was on the plan of salvation. Made me think of things I hadn't thought about in a long time, like Adam and Eve, and the veil of forgetfulness between this life and the one before. All the way through SS and sacrament meeting and no panic attacks. 

***

No one ever recommends that I do massage school, either. In fact, several people have said they think it's a weird idea and they can't see me enjoying it. My family thinks it'll be a waste of my brain yet also says "Hey, it's your life." But I want it, so when I'm done being in Japan, I'll be a student again. I'll find some way to not feel sheepish when I tell people I want to do massage school.

***

In my BYU freshman dorm, I sat on the super comfy brown fuzzy front room couches with my marked up Book of Mormon and thought sadly to myself that the book's advice was a little far away. "Even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you," Alma said. I couldn't even desire to believe. Too much hurt. (This was my problem with so much of scripture and also that douche C.S. Lewis: it assumes too much. Why would little miserable seventeen-year-old me even want to believe in this religion? Believing Christianity is not a happy prospect, at least for the gay of us, and if you try to represent Christianity as a religion of pure and obvious joy to me, I will feel like you are invalidating what I've been through, and I will sock you.)

Somewhere along the line I started wanting to believe. Not believing, but wanting to. So I went to Mormon church today. Maybe this will be a gradually permanent thing, or maybe not, but right now if I want to go that's okay. Maybe it will decide the course of my life and maybe it won't.

***

I want to go to massage school, so I will. Maybe it will be like editing and I'll realize after a few years that it was the idea I was in love with and I really loathe the reality of it. Maybe it will decide the course of my life and maybe it won't.

***

I despair of finding a calling in my life, or even stability.

***

Red shirt.

.

One in the morning and I'm looking at pictures of a man. I met him years ago. I slept next to him last week. Like brothers on a hotel bed.

God, the feel of his body. He's stronger than I am, broader, just barely taller. He sang Moves Like Jagger, which at first seemed questionable and then gradually perfect. We danced. We rode trains.

I watched him make out with another man, which was on one hand kinda hot and on the other depressing.

I won't see him again for at least a year, probably more, and so I'm stuck with just the time we had together, even though it wasn't what it might have been. I'll likely never see what might have been.

I'm friends with a lot of people, but it makes me sad to think he and I are just friends.

Anyway. It's one thirty in the morning. I don't think I'll feel like sleeping ever again. I will still be poor when I leave Japan. He will be with another guy. Maybe I won't be thinking about him still.