Letter #21 - July 2, 2012

Okay, so it's been a while since I've written, I think. So I'm going to update some stories.   Okay, so there was this drunk dude that was sleeping some bushes. He's really really scrawny and wearing no shirt. He's wearing cut off jean shorts, some of those old grandpa shoes that Brandon Dejardins(I miss that dude so much by the way) used to wear in that ironic way he does things. Somebody should tell him to write me. Anyways he yells "hey, help me up." I should've known this was a bad idea. So, I help him up and he's so extremely wasted. Like, so drunk it's crazy. He starts telling me about how he's homeless, an alcoholic, just got fired, and his wife left him (I wonder why).   He says he wants some help from us. I think it's because we're missionaries. But we're not like Salvation army missionaries or some non-denominational dudes who go to South Africa and build schools or whatever. I'm just trying to teach and find, you know? He doesn't understand that I have no place for him to stay. I know there's a homeless shelter in Jackson, MI. So he says that he has a place to stay, but he also doesn't have a place to stay. I'm so confused. They don't prepare you for this monkey business in the MTC.   He starts saying how he doesn't like my companion, for some reason. He looks shell-shocked like they didn't have homeless people or drunk people in Riverton, UT. At this point, I'm pretty much unfazed for some reason or another; I'm starting to think it's funny. So, starts saying how he used to rob people all the time. He kept jumping at me, and pretending that he was going to hit me and rob me. Then, I'm pretty sure he was trying to. So I just sort of push him away and step back. He keeps saying how he's going to "F me up and rob me" but with more randomly placed profanity. It was awesome. He pretty much insults me and says a curse word that starts with "F" and says you afterward. So I walk away. He's like "Hey, where are you going?" I said "You were mean to me and I was trying to help." He starts chasing after me, then he stops and turns back.   I played like, prison style basketball on an 11 foot hoop. What's happening to my life? I've actually been playing lots of random pickup games in my proselyting clothes. It's pretty funny. Not sure if I'm supposed to, but I doubt that God is too mad at me for it.   It was 106 degrees the other day. I was not happy. My black pants were not happy. I felt like my forehead was a solar panel but instead of giving me energy I nearly collapsed. I usually hate drinking water because it's gross, but I've been drinking more of it.   I have nothing exciting to say. Anyways, thanks for the letters everybody. It reminds me of a song by the Wonder Years, "I don't know why I'm here, but I know who my friends are." Transfer calls are on Friday. President Hess made a hint that I'll be leaving Jonesville. So, we'll see. Hold on, summer. I'll be back next year.   Damon, out.