Mission Journal

So, I haven't made any progress my mission journal for quite some time. I take comfort in the fact that since the drive I had stored the latest, un-backed up copy was found after being missing for 6 weeks. I've even seen that drive tonight, it's nor re-lost, and I have since made a backup of the thing. For your reading pleasure, and in an effort to jump start the effort to finish the paper, I give you an exerpt from page 12:

"When I got into the MTC, they asked me if I had my medical papers and my picture. I did not have either of these things, so I got to go to a ‘special’ line after the welcome message from the MTC president. All missionaries took their luggage and left them in classrooms while they went through the orientation process. As we left one room, a lady was checking haircuts. If your haircut was not up to standards, you had to go get a haircut. The MTC barbershop was staffed by BYU barbers. If you passed the haircut inspection, she told you to make sure to get a haircut the day before you leave the MTC. We all got our sacks of materials and most missionaries were able to go to their dorms. I went to the special line and waited to get my picture taken. They charged us a dollar for the picture. I think the charge was more of a “This should teach you to read instructions better next time” sort of thing… While standing in line waiting for my picture, there was a missionary in front of me that decided to complain about just about everything. Mostly he complained about the 1 dollar he had to pay for the picture. After getting his picture taken, he mostly complained about how bad the picture was. I remember thinking, ‘I feel sorry for the guy that has to be his companion.’

After getting my picture taken, I had to stand in the line of people who forgot their medical history. Basically they gave you the form, and scheduled booster shots. They told me to call home and ask for the forms to be sent, or I would have to get the shots before I left the MTC. I called and asked my Mom to send the forms. They came in time for me to avoid the shots.

From here, I was finally able to go to my dorm room and meet my companion. I knew his name. It was Elder Sutton. When I got to my room and opened the door, the missionary that was sitting there was the complainer from the picture line. I couldn’t decide if I was going to be shocked or amused. Elder Sutton introduced himself as ‘William R. Sutton the third” and let me know he had already taken the bottom bunk. That was fine by me."