I know I am often a vague, ambiguous riddle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in mystery.
I use words meant to mystify, and I often leave a trail of questions in my wake. Questions like, what the what? You didn't graduate from seminary?
Truth be told, I may or may not have graduated from seminary. I can't remember. Alls I remember is that everyone thought I did. Maybe because I attended the ceremony and received my diploma along with all the other good boys and girls at Provo high.
When I opened my diploma, however, there was no certificate of graduation inside, but rather a note which read:
YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR DIPLOMA UPON COMPLETION OF THE SEMINARY PROGRAM REQUIREMENTS.
I was close--not more than a few scriptorial workbooks away from completing the requirements--but did I ever fill in the necessary blanks to receive my diploma? I honestly can't remember. Everyone thought I graduated and that's all mattered.
See I was raised to avoid the appearance of evil, and sometimes avoiding the appearance of evil entails creating the appearance of good.
When I asked my hub this morning at breakfast if I ever graduated from seminary he said "NOPE!"
"And you still married me!?" I declared.
"Well, I knew you had potential," he shrugged.
He knew I had potential. It sounds sweet, don't it? It didn't sound quite as sweet when I was in that newlywed stage. You know that stage, where you lay in bed all coy like, and you bat your eyelashes and you say "Honey? Sweetie pie? Googoo bear? Why did you marry me anyway?"
"I dunno. Cuz you had po-tential, I guess."
My poor hub. He got his eyeballs scratched out a lot when we were honeymooners.
Maybe someday I will be able to live up to my potential, and finish those darn workbooks.
Until then I'll keep hoping to get into grad school.
For the record, it wasn't because of obnoxious kissing that I didn't graduate from seminary.
And it wasn't because of all those knock-down-drag-out-brawls I got into with my seminary teachers concerning church policy on beards, caffeine and exposing my knee cap.
It was because of a little phase I went through after my dad died of his own volition. I call it my truancy phase. By truancy I mean I started skipping classes when I couldn't face the world. Sometimes I ditched by myself to go hide out in the public library and read Amityville Horror or Flowers in the Attic. Other times I ditched with my gay friends, Carlos and Shane, to listen to Queen or watch Ordinary People.
Don't ask me why gay people and sad people enjoy ditching school so much. I guess school just wasn't meeting our emotional needs. And seminary and math seemed liked the most inconsequential classes to miss, (which is why I can no longer get into either Heaven or Princeton Elementary.)
But I bounced back.
(Well technically I'm a few workbooks short of bouncing back.)
Anyways, I hope you don't think I didn't get anything out of seminary just because I didn't graduate. I got my hub, so it wasn't a total waste.
That's where we met when I was just 17 years old. Luckily I was past my truancy phase by then, and well into my potential phase.
And coincidentally, I was just about to enter my obnoxious kissing phase.
Hmmm . . . good timing, goo goo bear!