Christmas is over. Now, here I sit with a nice tan and a profound longing for the beach. I close my eyes and fantasize that I’m not surrounded by this foot of snow and the arctic tundra that I loathe with every fiber of my being. This Christmas was an interesting one. My family has a tradition that many find to be strange. Every year, rather than receive presents for Jesus’ birthday, we go on a vacation together. This year we went to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico and stayed in an all-inclusive resort on the beach. It was the first time I’d ever been on a vacation of this sort. Normally we stay in a condo or a hotel, and most of the fun we experience comes from our ventures out into the city we choose to visit. This trip was basically the opposite. We spent roughly 95% within the confines of the resort… with the same group of 300 drunk Canadians, my two grandparents (both 80 years old), one pool and an open bar.
As much as I’d like to talk about the stories and memories of naked men wandering the hallways, my grandma’s unforgettably senile one liners to random strangers, diarrhea and my Dad’s sexy legs, those stories will have to wait for another day because right now my mind is being plagued with a different semi-related topic.
Those of you who actually know me personally know that I am a Mormon. I was born into the Mormon Church and was raised a faithful member up until I graduated from high school. My testimony and hypersensitive conscience were nurtured carefully by my family. After graduation, I went on to serve a two year mission preaching the gospel in Santiago Chile. Since then, I have been attending college in an attempt to get a degree, find a wife and get a career so that I can breed my own little batch of Mormon missionaries. (At this point, you may be thinking that I’m about to renounce my religion… I am not, so you can relax Mom. I’m not going apostate.) Over the past few months, I have been presented with a fair amount of stress and personal “trials and tribulations.” Along with dealing with the regular issues such as school, work and relationships, I am also trying to pursue some hobbies, a leadership position in my church and an ongoing battle between my shoulder angel and shoulder devil.
The shoulder angel battle sucks! Seriously! I have been raised in what is probably the most ultra-conservative area in the country by one of the most conservatively minded and religious families in the neighborhood. We read scriptures together frequently, we never missed a Sunday of church (which lasts for 3 hours). My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles all hold callings within their individual congregations that require hours of service on a weekly basis. I have been taught to avoid alcohol, coffee, cigarettes and pre-marital sex. To this point, I have abstained from all of the above. I was taught to avoid foul language and not to laugh at dirty jokes. I’ve been instructed that the family is the core of all that is good in this world, and that I need to be a gentleman and respecter of women. All in all, I’m a good boy. A very good boy…
But sometimes my freakin’ shoulder devil won’t shut his pie hole! I must be a minority in Utah County, because everyone here seems to be so righteous (and often times, self righteous). I’m probably the guy keeping the rest of the city from being translated like the City of Enoch. Honestly, sometimes I just don’t want to conform and do what everyone else was doing. I have these reoccurring pangs of freakin’ rebellion (for example, using the word “freakin’”). I spend hours wondering when I will get to have my liberating rock star-esque youth that I can hide from my children in years to come. Yet I find myself debating whether it’s appropriate to kiss a girl on the second date even though I’m not sure I want a relationship with her. I feel guilty drinking too much Dr. Pepper because of the caffeine it contains. Many times I firmly believe that I’m reserving myself a sure spot in the cold confines in Hell because I don’t read my scriptures on a daily basis (by the way, I like to believe that Hell is cold, not hot like most people say… because I HATE the cold).
As I was preparing for my recent trip to Mexico, I found myself creating hundreds of scenarios with my incredibly vivid imagination consisting of my incredibly smooth word-smithing which eventually led to a top secret ‘hook-up’ with some random girl at the resort. We would have our little fling, have some fun and then say goodbye and never see each other again. I was pretty stoked, and in a way, my shoulder devil was getting the best of me.
The more time I spent at the resort, however, the more my hopes dwindled for a secret C.O.W. (Crush Of the Week). The only people who walked around the resort that were my age and not completely hammered to the point that they could barely sit up to get out of their chairs, let alone walk in a straight line were my brothers. Since I didn’t want to hook up with my brother, and everyone over the age of 18 was at least 9 times over the legal limit in any American state, I was basically SOL. I ended up instead, reading three of the four books that I had carted along with me over the equator. Needless to say, the shoulder angel won once again… well, the angel and my cowardice. Now, the only stories I have from vacation involve my grandma.
The battle between the shoulder angels, however, continues to rage. I’m sure I’ll spend a huge portion of my life debating whether I should do this or that… especially when it involves a girl.
Friends say that you can only conform for so long before your will breaks and you’re forced to do something drastic. I for one, would just appreciate it if the ‘right’ thing seemed to be a little more right than the ‘wrong’ thing. It would make decisions much easier. I also wish I could read minds… among many other super powers. I guess wishing is all I’ll ever do (along with worrying).
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