I Made Up Several Words

11/26/24

Yesterday was Monday. I know that. I apologize for being late. I know that some weird people wait on my emails because they like them. I can't fathom why.

I'm going to make an announcement just like they did in grade school: my missionary.org email account will probably stop working before too long. Thus, please update any necessary contacts with williamvott@gmail.com (the address sending this email). If you are a missionary, add that one to your list so that I can still see what you have to say. Imagine a PA system for this next part... "Thank you students and teachers, have a wonderful day here at Willisburg Elementary. Go Wolves!"

I made it back to Connecticut. I saw 2 different high school theater productions while in Massachusetts, one of which I liked far better than the other. Theater is an interesting thing. It's like the O.G. form of television and has been around for a very long time. Even before people could write they were performing plays. We like stories; they captivate our attention and make us think about other things for a while, transporting us out of our own dull and dreary lives and into another world where the rules and circumstances are a little different.

I know. Speak for myself. You probably don't have a dull and dreary life. At least, I hope not. I would say the days ahead are brighter, but they aren't because of Daylight Savings and wintertime fast approaching. Sorry to remind you of that if you forgot.

What did I do this week? Well, I read more Stephen Hawking, for one thing. I could read his writings for hours. For those who don't know who that is, I'm just a tad bit disappointed but I'll get over it. He was a theoretical physicist who was diagnosed with ALS (a disease where you pretty much just melt due to muscle unresponsiveness from the outside in until your organs fail) just as he was getting his PhD. Over time, it got worse until he could no longer move his hands to write or otherwise indicate how he was feeling. This meant no more math and no more particle physics or cosmology. Wrong. Intel had developed a computer that would detect movements from his eyes and eyebrows and turn them into speech. He is remembered for his robot voice. Some of his most important work was done from his wheelchair after he could no longer speak. I can't even do the mathematical stuff he was doing in his head and I can move my hands to write things down. He gave lectures with his robot voice and was still a genius, yet if you looked at him, you would just pity his condition and talk to him in a soft voice and want to donate to his GoFundMe (he didn't have one by the way). This is the person who was making predictions about black holes and was probably the closest at his time to have a good picture of the universe in his head. My point with all of that? We all come in different vessels for our own genius. Just appreciate the genius a little more than the getuous. I made up the word getuous by taking the backwards "in" in geNIus and replacing it with a backwards "out" in order to make a point. Get it? Good. It's not a real word though, so don't throw it around in casual conversation with commoners or they'll be really confused.

I went to church in Connecticut. One kid was giving his mission farewell talk. I hope all goes well for that dude. When sacrament meeting ended I just kind of wandered out into the hall, and some lady came up to me and said I could come to Primary, so I did. Connecticut Primaries are not like Utah Primaries. They are small. There were maybe ten kids in the whole Primary. My 9 year old cousin sat with me at the very back. It was pretty hilarious. I was sitting in one of those brown plastic chairs (XL, don't worry) on the back wall with my arms folded, and so was my cousin. We could start a Primary Gang or something. My other cousin gave a talk and it made me laugh because he is cute, but also made me think a little bit. I like that our church gives peace to people. I don't think that is a bad thing at all, and hearing it from a little kid who probably had no actual testimony of what he was saying was a nice way to hear it. I think that having a congregation and a community that is stable helps people whose lives seem to be falling apart. I didn't really have to talk to anyone, except the feared J. K. Maybe I'll write about her another time.

I have been learning many songs on my guitar. This week's highlights: "Delta Dawn" by Tanya Tucker, "Walmart" by Welles, and "Man of Constant Sorrow" by the Soggy Bottom Boys. I should probably start a YouTube channel or something. Maybe someday I can even be... famous? That would be so awesome. That would be so cool.

 

I have just remembered a piece of fairly important news. I called BYU to find out how my life is going to work for the next little bit, and it sounds like I kind of have to go back to school in January. I'm gonna be a college boy again, folks. I'll try not to get too much of an education. Sadly, the year option for Americorps might not work, but I can do one of the shorter times. As for school, not sure if engineering is a good fit, but we'll stick with it. I've had several teachers suggest a math or physics degree, so that's on my mind. I'd like to be well off in terms of monetary stores though, and sometimes physics degrees don't come with that. I do know that money isn't everything and I'd much rather feel like I was making a positive difference in the world than earning a little bit more paper, and I think that I could.

In mission news, I got some messages from the only real friends that I made, and they said that they were really glad that I happened to be in Ottawa because I had been the perfect teacher for the guy, so boom. Take that. I can say I did something good at least. I got a letter at my house with the mission office as a return address. Some of my close connections were really hoping it was an apology. It wasn't. It was mail from someone else and they had written "gone home!" in big letters on the front and then sent it to my house. I thought it was a little bit mean for no reason. Other than that, nobody has reached out to me or my family. I could have just called an Uber and disappeared for all they know. The only witnesses they have are my companion and the zone leaders who saw me leave with a couple older people.

For all of those who made fun of me for owning any Dogecoin, who's laughing now?

I can't really think of anything else that happened. If you got engaged in the last few weeks, congrats. That seems to be increasingly popular among kids my age these days (weirdos), and it seems to get more popular every year. People like the whole "fish in the sea" metaphor, but little do they know: I'm afraid of the ocean and can hardly swim anyways. But I will go to your mysterious "weddings", if you wish.

I don't have much else to say. I guess I'll talk to you all next week. As always, you're free to reply.

Will Ott

Cool CATs

11/18/24

Have you ever caught yourself wondering, "Do people still use flip phones? How do they survive in today's world? Do they still make them? How do they work?"

I can in fact confirm that the answer to all of the above questions is yes. Yes, there are people that use flip phones. Yes, we function just fine. Oh, you noticed that I said we? I have a flip phone now. I write to you from a CAT S22 Flip. I know that not all of you can access the internet to find out what this phone is, so I'll write you a brief description that should answer any other questions you might have:

     "Coming to you from the legendary construction company Caterpillar, the CAT S22 Flip perfectly combines function and form in a single rugged unit running Android 11 Go. It provides access to today's necessary apps, but maintains a vintage design with physical keys and few distractions from what a phone should be by its moniker. The classic clamshell protects it from damage (including an IP68 water rating) while the 2 inch screen is just large enough to accomplish required tasks. If you are looking for something with a bit of character; sophisticated, traditional, and rugged like a man from a Hallmark flick, go with the CAT S22 Flip."

That was my product review. I wrote that. Somebody hire me. I wrote it on a Bluetooth keyboard to save my sanity from the tiny buttons or the forsaken 0-10 pad. Saving my sanity was the entire reason I salubriously opted to get this phone instead of reverting back to my iPhone. In my current state, it seemed like the worst possible choice for my mental well-being to get a device that was meant to capture my attention through YouTube, Instagram, and Facebook. Maybe I'll go back eventually, but the frustratingly small on-screen keyboard that covers half the screen and the painstaking entry method of a 3 character 0-10 pad (those living in the early 2000s... How did you live through that?) has done a pretty good job at keeping my off of my phone while still permitting me to do all of the required tasks. I like it. Also, smartphone users no longer have any excuse for using things like lol, ttyl, hbu, lmao, or any of those. Those were invented for flip-phones, not your speed of thought glass tablets. Speak of tablets, I think that Moses must've been the first guy to access the cloud from a tablet. 

I am currently at my aunt's house in Massachusetts. I haven't been here before, but it seems like a great place to live. I see that Utah is kind of the exception to how the world lives; most suburbs are not like ours. I will be in Massachusetts for the week, then I'll go back to Connecticut for another week. I'll be back in Utah before I know it.

I have learned a lot about family by being here. I've been learning about how to find joy in a regular life. I think that growing up in Utah has some incredible positives, but also some real negatives. Utah is pretty much the model version of society. It is covered in glitz and glamour, makeup and hair treatments, teeth whiteners and botox, 6' 2" gym bros at Swig, etc. It is toxic to boys and girls alike. It does a good job at convincing you that you have to live a lavish life in order to be happy, a life where you just need to be a little prettier, a little stronger, a little smarter, a little more tan, and a little more sinless in order to achieve that golden ticket life. I think it does all but convince you that if you are like the version of those you see around you, you'd be happy just like they are and your life would be perfect too. It gets hard not to think that way. You live among these people who never seem to have anything wrong and credit it to their worthiness because the last thing they can do is admit their shortcomings. If you got to see them for who they really were, you'd realize you were living nearly the same story with a couple changes in settings and events. Utah's culture excels in permitting that. It doesn't mean it's a good or a bad thing. It can be incredibly motivating to be better and can help communities be far more united, but it can also have negative effects. It is simply something to be aware of, something I have become acutely aware of spending a brief time living in an average town going to my cousin's high school football games among perfectly happy people who aren't overly fortunate in any kind of way. You can get something good out of a simple life, just as you can out of a flashy career. The substance of the joy is just a little bit different.

Oh my swear words. You know what I missed? Reading. Actual reading, words on a page about any nonfiction event that you could think of. Maybe you don't know this about me, but I love reading nonfiction. It is so much cooler when you know that the events actual happened. After I watched "Oppenheimer" last summer (not now Telestial Doorkeeper, I'm writing), I read the entire book that inspired Christopher Nolan: "American Prometheus". It is an incredible piece of literature comprehensively describing the details of J. Robert Oppenheimer's life, both personal and professional. He is somewhat of an antihero, but I loved the movie only slightly less than the book. History is crazy. Here's to hoping we write one worth remembering for the good over the bad.

Art is beautiful. I asked in my last email why we write. I think the same questions and answers are applied to art. Human beings want to make their mark on the world and be remembered somehow. They do this well by asking/answering/doing something that is appealing to other human beings, especially in a format that will last longer than their human form will. Pictures are no different. When used correctly, they make an impact. Want to be amazed? Look up the LIFE 100 Most Important Photographs Collection. Look at works like Earthrise and The Tank Man. Film is no different; it's just a bunch of pictures put together.

I know I said I'd say nothing about this movie, but I changed my mind a little bit. I won't mention the title, you'll just have to watch movies until eventually you go "wait a minute, I read an email about this already". There are two worth talking about atm. Sorry, at the moment.

The first was about little kids living a pretty tough life. They were kind of outcasts in their society because they weren't the same as everyone else. They were seen as mean and rude and menacing. Nobody liked them. Then someone gave them a chance to change a little bit. They became kinder and nicer until everybody liked them. They learned a timeless story and it captivated them to the point that they wanted to be different. Such is the power of myth (which happens to be the title of a book I'm reading right now, solid literature right there).

The second movie was about belief. It was about control and where it comes from. It was about how you can ascend control sources in your life and get what you need out of things in order to become a kinder person. I forget who, but I am reminded of a Jewish psychologist in WWII Nazi Germany who realized that he wasn't more free (more options), but had more liberty (ability to choose from the options) than his Nazi captors. Though his surroundings were terrible, they were completely out of his control. He helped other prisoners and even guards survive the horrors of the concentration camps. That is what the movie reminded me of. A letter opener is used to free the main character from her prison, which I find deeply symbolic. She opened a letter, one that she half-wrote herself, and found information by way of experience that changed her life. She had to examine what she believed in, the contents of the letter, to know what it really meant. To tease the election theme that is pretty recent: an empty ballot is worth less than none at all. I just cooked that up in my mind. Somebody hire me.

I don't really have a ton else to talk about, other than that I love Stephen Hawking. I'm reading a couple of his books right now (I'm reading 4 different ones cause I have all day) and I love them because it is just science. I would totally be a cosmologist. Not a cosmetologist. I made that mistake on the day of the 8th grade career day. I showed up to the cosmetologist workshop thinking I was about to learn about the universe. I now know far more about hair curlers than I ever needed to.

As usual, I'm just an email away. Sorry if I haven't answered you yet. I just got this phone a couple of days ago, and I've had several other things I needed to do first. I'll start replying soon in the order of reception.

Have a great week! 

Will Ott

Ps: This comes from my personal email because I don't know how long my mission email will be open for.

The Fool's Resignation

11/12/24

Why do we write?

We write these characters to form sentences of words, simply to extend one small part of our minds into the world. We take something mental and make it physical; our words become the skin for a new kind of creature full of life and meaning. Our characters become characters.

We write to tell a story.

I debated long and hard whether or not to send this email at all, whether to make the characters and tell the stories or to leave it blank. If thousands of years of human development led to the written language, it feels almost disrespectful not to use it just because I was afraid of what someone else might say.

I am writing this email to inform. I write to put another chapter of my story out into the minds of others. That's what writing is: preserving ideas so others can read them. A person's ideas are only as good as their ability to convey them; thus, I must convey. I write this email not for pity, nor reaction, nor response. I write it because I respect all of those reading enough that I feel they deserve to know what happened.

Just after I sent out my email last week, my companion and I got a message from the bishop. He told us that we needed to come in for a meeting with him on Wednesday at 6:30, 15 minutes after Institute started. The email was addressed to Elders and Sisters, so I assumed that meant the Champlain trio would accompany as well. I also figured the zone leaders would be present at this meeting. We finished Monday and I assumed we would be headed to the activity that night. Companion said that it wouldn't be a good idea and that we probably should not go. I trusted his judgment but voiced my concern. We didn't go, and stayed in the apartment afterwards. I felt annoyed that we couldn't go because of some anti-problem that was being played up into some dramatic issue. We kind of heard more information about who might've passed information along and who might've been part of the problem, but just usual gossip stuff that comes with things like this.

Tuesday came and went. We had a phone call where my companion did not give me a chance to talk and then said "sorry, I forgot about you". I was annoyed but I suggested we continue our street contacting so that I didn't have to sit with my feelings of annoyance.

Wednesday was the day. I woke up as usual and told myself, "This is it. This is where I see the character of those around me and the leadership that I am under." I spent the day doing what I usually did: finding, texting contacts, etc. I was excited to finally go back to normal activities, starting with Institute. Eventually, 6:15 rolled around and we headed over to the church building. Doing what we normally do, we went into the small kitchen connected to the gym to see if the senior missionaries needed any help getting food ready. Elder and Sister Z are from St. George. They are neighbors with some of my family members, and I like them quite a bit.

Companion and I started talking with them. I asked how their week was. They said it had been a pretty hard week. Then, they said that in light of recent events, it might not be a good idea for us to eat the food and sit with the ward members. I was a little confused, but went with it. Sister Z asked Elder Z what he thought about it, and he said "We just want people to come eat our food, so we want you to make some plates, but it probably isn't a good idea." They said they wished someone would have told them a meeting like this was happening, because they had no idea. They said that they would have liked to have been a part of it so that they could hear what the problem was. All very odd. We weren't allowed to even interact with the ward members that we had hardly spoken to since we arrived.

The air felt odd as we moved to the foyer. Something felt strange. The sister missionaries arrived and I kind of mentioned how weird everything was. They said they didn't know what was happening either. The bishop kind of wandered over and said that we'd wait for the zone leaders in the kind of tone that dads use right before you get in trouble. That was the first indicator that something was wrong. Eventually, the zone leaders arrived and we moved into the bishop's office.

He closed the door and sat down. We didn't start with a prayer or anything. He said that he was calling this meeting because never in his time as a stake president or bishop has he ever had such a problem with missionaries. He was upset. He was almost yelling, but just a step below it. I will write what was said, and then my thoughts.

He started with the numbers he had just received on missionary work. He said something had happened in the last month (while staring at me) that has caused a significant drop in missionary work. He said that we had caused a problem with members and that they hardly knew us. We were supposed to be "earning their trust, taking them out for juice," and getting to know them. He opened to a part of Preach My Gospel and said it says "to ask ourselves if we are being a blessing to local leaders. Right now, you're not!" while staring directly at me. He then moved to a section of Preach My Gospel that talked about being professional. He chewed out the Sisters for not replying to his text stating that this meeting would be happening. He said that in his mission, they never would have been allowed to show up at a dance. "There is music playing, for crying out loud!" "You should never have been there, and you should never have been doing any sort of dancing!" "The Macarena? Are you kidding me?" "With costumes, nonetheless!" Sister B tried to defend her dancing a little bit. Sister J apologized and kind of tried to suck up to get out with less damage. He said that the ward consisted of many returned missionaries, and that he had received 12 calls from ward members that what we were doing was inappropriate, staring at me. He said they didn't go to the dance to chaperone, but that they probably should have. He said it didn't even occur to him that he should check the rooms, because his "worst nightmare was to find one of [us] making out with a member!" He said that we were officially uninvited from all activities and ward council and that we needed to work harder to earn the members' trust. He said one of the worst things that happened was that someone showed up to sacrament meeting and that the missionaries weren't there to greet them, so two members started talking to them. He said, "Instead of thinking, 'let's refer them to the missionaries', they thought, 'nah, we'll do it ourselves', and they sat with them in sacrament meeting! This is not acceptable!" He asked if we thought he was wrong, and what we had to say for ourselves. Everyone sat in a stunned silence. I spoke up. I asked what he thought we were trying to do by attending the dance. I said we had tried many different ways to befriend the ward members but nobody wanted to talk to us. I said that the reason I was teaching new members how to dance and laughing with them was because they looked pretty miserable and that nobody was talking to them. I said "that's why we show up to Institute and wanted to go to the dance, because we haven't got a chance to go to any other activities." He said, "Elder Ott, I don't know. Talk to Joe (the Elders Quorum president)." I said we've tried. They won't reach out to us and aren't providing any kind of support. He ignored me. He then said that his other issue was that someone (again, staring right at me) had been overheard talking down to Sister Z, and that he had received 2 reports of that. He said that "when I hear of someone disrespecting our senior missionaries (staring at me), I kind of lose it. That's just not okay." He continued with fairly non-specific issues and how much of a problem the missionaries were and that he couldn't compare missions and that he'd never had a problem like this before. He continued to reference that "something had changed," all while staring at me. He then said "Sisters, you're excused. You may leave. You two (pointing at me and Companion) need to stay." After the sisters left, the zone leaders said, "do you want us to go too?" He replied "No, we need witnesses for things like this." My alarm bells and red flags fired pretty fast.

I will interrupt the narrative to give my sporadic thoughts up to this point.

Something had happened in the last month. School started. For a bunch of college kids, that makes meetings and contacts incredibly difficult. This bishop had been bishop for less than one calendar year, so he wouldn't know that. He said he knew about school, but he couldn't have known how drastic of an effect it was. I had been friendly and kind to those who seemed to have nobody at activities, the people excluded from the cliques (cliques that included the bishop's two children) sitting by themselves. With what money was I supposed to take them out for juice? Theirs? They have none. We have none. We can barely afford to feed ourselves. Was I a blessing to local leaders? It isn't about the local leaders. It is about the people who need help. When local leaders start doing things that aren't okay, do I support them, or the people that need me? Easy choice. He didn't ask the Sisters if they could make it to the meeting. There was no question. It was a demand that there would be a meeting at a time that fit in his schedule to prevent us from going to Institute. Music? At a dance? We might as well burn in hell now and get it over with. I think Jesus probably smiled at happy events. I doubt he skipped weddings and gatherings. He probably even, if I dare say it, danced a little bit. I didn't think the robot, Footloose, Thriller, and the Macarena were inappropriate in any way. None of the people I had personally interacted with gave me that impression either. Making out with a member in a room was a stupid comment. Why else do we have companions? To prevent things like that from happening. Then, if they do, disciplinary action is taken. How were we supposed to become friends with members if we were banned from ward council and activities? How would we ever talk to them or get to know them in any way? I'm sorry that a couple of kids in the ward didn't do what was right and thought that they could be better missionaries for whatever nostalgic reason they thought of. That isn't my fault. Also, isn't that a good thing? I thought we were "supposed" to be "fellowshipping" people so that that could happen.We had lessons leading up to sacrament because that was the only time people could meet. When I raised my concerns, I got berated. Joe wasn't helpful. I talked to him and he blew me off and said nothing helpful. I never would have said anything disrespectful to Sister Z. I complimented her at the dance for leading the Thriller group dance because it was cool. Why was he treating this all as some kind of witch hunt, as if I were the witch? What was his deal? He didn't seem very concerned with helping the members or finding out our side of the story.

At this point, it is me, Companion, the bishop, and the two zone leaders. I'm pretty on edge and a bit upset about being treated the way that I was. I was upset by the way that this bishop was treating the other missionaries. Seemed like it wasn't his place to tell the missionaries what they weren't allowed to do and that this all should have gone immediately to the mission president for him to handle. The bishop should be supporting the missionaries, not tearing them down.

Opening words of the second part of the meeting, the bishop is turned directly facing me in the corner. "Elder Ott, I'm sorry to have been ripping on you like that, but this part is specifically about you." He started talking about how we weren't being effective and that I seemed to be causing a lot of issues. He said he couldn't figure out why in a ward with sisters that men would ever teach women. He said he had no idea why "men didn't only teach men, and women didn't only teach women." He said that would certainly have been the case in his mission. After continuing in non-specifics for some time, he raised his voice and was practically yelling. I just sat and stared at him. Just quiet enough to be below yelling he said, "Elder Ott, I received two reports, one from my 78 year old mother, that you were sitting far too close to a young lady in the back row in sacrament meeting."

What?

I was what?

I was sitting next to my companion and a friend we were teaching because she said that she was terrified to come to church because she had never done anything like that before and that she didn't want to go alone. She was going through a rough time and was pretty sad. I sat next to her and shared a hymnbook and asked about her life to take some pressure off because she seemed very scared and isolated. I was conscious of our seating and sat far closer to Companion than I was comfortable to give her more space. She wanted to sit in the back row because she was scared of the front. Also, what the freak was his 78 year old mother doing in the YSA? And why does she have her eyes locked on the missionaries? I had passed this friend along to the senior couple when it was time for Relief Society because everyone else had zipped off to their cliques before I could find someone to introduce her to.

The bishop continued to humiliate me in front of the other 3 missionaries. Not a single one of them stood up for me. Nobody said "who told you that?" Nobody said anything on my behalf. Not my companion, not the zone leaders. I just sat there and took it. I should have said something, honestly, but I was kind of too shocked to say anything. The bishop started getting onto us for parking sideways at activities. We had never done that. That was the zone leaders! They took no responsibility. They just watched us get in trouble for it. Companion said nothing, just apologized. Elder Tank (zone leader, with a moniker for anonymity) was the only one who had ever taken time to get to know me a little bit. He said "Elder Ott, there's no way you could have known any of that. I wouldn't have. You just gotta learn how to change for some things out here." The bishop turned around and said pleasantly, "Where are you Elders from?" going complete good cop for them.

I sat there quietly and waited for the meeting to end a few minutes later. I shook the bishop's hand while turning sideways (I should have just left) and walked out the door. I walked down the hall and out the building. I spoke to nobody. I walked past the class where they were having Institute. As soon as the door closed to the outside of the building, I yelled at nothing in particular and threw my missionary tag onto the ground. I yelled to Companion. I said "Take me back to the apartment now. I'm sick of this sh*t and I'm done being a missionary." Pardon my French. I never got to use it anyways.

I went back to our apartment and called my mom. She asked about what happened and we arranged for my grandparents to pick me up the following day. She suggested that out of respect for Sister Z, I send a potential apology anyways. I agreed that it was a good idea. I wrote a text explaining what I'd heard and that I was sorry if I caused her to feel less than in any way. I packed a suitcase that night.

I prayed. I prayed longer and more intently than I ever have. I said, "God, if you need me to stay here, I need you to tell me because this is it. I am done." I felt nothing. I felt absolutely nothing but anger and frustration. There was no calm. I decided that I probably wasn't in the best place to receive some sort of answer, and that I should probably sleep on this before making a decision. I told my grandparents to wait till tomorrow to come get me and what kind of time they would need to know my decision by. They said 7 am.

Companion told me he couldn't just sit there and say nothing and that he had to tell someone. I don't fault him for doing what he believed was right. I think he made a good choice by doing that. He called the assistants and had a long talk with them. He then told me that the mission president wanted to talk to me. I said I didn't really want to talk to him because he had never offered me any kind of support in the past. He said "okay, well president just said to tell you that they can get a flight for you tomorrow if you want." Figured as much. I said "no thanks, I got it figured out." I went to sleep praying the way I knew how.

I woke up and still felt mad. That was a pretty bad sign. Usually it's gone when I wake up, but it wasn't this time. I prayed again in the morning. Nothing. I felt nothing. I texted my grandparents to come and get me. I looked at my phone and saw that Sister Z had texted back. She said that those remarks had never happened, from me or another missionary, which meant someone just straight up lied or the bishop made something up.

The day went by pretty slowly. Companion said just about nothing all day. I packed all of my things into my three suitcases I had emptied just 6 weeks before. The mission president called again to tell me that there was a plane I could take the next day. I ignored him. We ended up at the public library, where I read a book that I really liked until 4:30, at which point we headed back to the church. On the way there, Companion said, "I don't know what I'm gonna do. Something feels wrong." I told him not to let me ruin his mission; if the pre-me part was good, then the rest probably would be too. I told him that if anyone tried to investigate him or try to send him home somehow to contact me, and that I would get them to let him stay.

We got to the church. The zone leaders pulled up and we loaded Companion's things into their car. Nobody really acted like anything was going on. They talked about how they were going to go get wings and that Companion could go with them and that it was gonna be awesome. Elder Tank said "don't abandon the church just because of some sucky things that happened" and that it was "the people, not the church". Sad that they thought that was what I was gonna do next. The Sisters showed up to say goodbye, but they were too scared of the zone leaders. I said goodbye to them after everyone else had left. I went to a hotel for a night then drove to my grandparents' house. My phone shut down completely when it connected to WiFi and deleted everything that I had on it. I got to my grandparents' and checked my messenger to find a message from Sister B asking if I knew if Companion liked her or not... good to hear somebody cared.

Being here has been weird. It feels like everyone who gives me any kind of side glance knows that I used to be a missionary even though they obviously don't. It feels a little bit like the floor has fallen out from beneath me. I don't really know what I believe right now, and I don't know that I ever did. Nothing that anyone says to me about what they know is true will help with that. No amount of testifying will help me figure it out. Life feels a little... shattered. But it's better because I don't feel like I sold myself out. I feel true to myself and feel like I am actually trying to figure things out, instead of just going through the motions. I believe in being kind. I am trying to do that. I tried to do that on my mission and was pretty ostracized for it.

All that being said, I don't feel like I'm in crisis. I don't feel like, "oh my gosh, my life has no point now," I just know that a mission wasn't it for me. Doesn't mean that the things I learned on my mission are now useless and I should reject everything. I wouldn't say that I'm struggling. I'm working through it. I feel like I am learning more about myself every day, more than a mission ever taught me to understand. I don't know exactly what I'll do next, but I trust myself enough to figure it out. I know that I'm capable. I am a little frustrated by the organizational structure of the church, but I wouldn't say that it is wrong. I'd still argue that it's true, as long as true isn't defined so black and white. I wouldn't say that it's all right and correct, but I wouldn't say it's all wrong. I feel betrayed, mad, and sad, but also peaceful, content, and true to myself.

I watched a movie today (straight to hell, I know) and the way that the situation was portrayed caught my attention. It portrayed pretty accurately how I felt and gave me more to think about. I won't say what movie right now, but it was good. I will discourse that movie at a later date with those interested. I have a lot of thoughts.

I don't know when I'm going back home yet. I am not a charity case, I don't need a billion emails about how you know God still loves me and that everything is gonna work out because of God's plan, etc. I don't need extra testimonies that the church is still true and not to give up on my beliefs because of x, y, or z. Those don't help people like me who are trying to understand what they're feeling. Yeah, I'm scared for the future. We all are, just for different reasons. I love talking about things with an open perspective. If that is what people want to do, I love doing it.

I want to keep writing these emails because I said I would. It feels like something I can do for people and I have heard that people like hearing what I have to say. Truth is uncomfortable and hard to hear, but we have this remarkable talent as human beings to entertain multiple beliefs and figure things out within ourselves. I'm not off on some road that will ruin my life and take away my sense of morality, so don't be tempted to believe that.

I am sorry that this email took so long; like I said, I wasn't sure whether to write it at all. If you wanna talk to me about any of what I said (or anything else), let me know. I'm always open these days.

Miss you all! Hopefully everything is well in your world. If you don't wanna keep getting these emails now that they aren't necessarily mission emails, let me know. I'll take you off the list and you don't have to read how I feel about things.

(also my younger siblings don't know yet so don't tell them, I'm surprising them later)

Sincerely,

Will Ott

The DanceGate Scandal

11/4/24

Laydees and gentlemen, boys and goy-ils, gather round and I'll tell you the tale of the week's ill-fated events.

I decided to do this earlier to give myself time to respond to any emails I get today. I'm still working on them. I have read them all, though. Some of them I just don't know how to respond yet.

I'll start with the half-witted good stuff that happened. Picture me as the Queen of England, smiling and waving at nothing in particular as I describe some things.

CATEGORY: POSITIVE BATTERY END

Rack your brain to recall my email from a few weeks ago. Remember those Rice Krispies I gave out? I talked to 2 people in 1 day in complete other locations in the city that remembered that I had given them one. One of them said she was really upset that day, and that she was kinda rude when she sort of ignored me, but was grateful for the treat. She said she was surprised that I just told her to enjoy her book after she was rude. I talked to this girl for like an hour and half. We talked about all kinds of things, and maybe 30% was about the church. In the end, she didn't want us having her number in our missionary phone, so she followed me on Facebook. I offered her free guitar lessons (yes, rule orients, that is allowed in the standards).

The second interaction was at church. Some guy showed up that nobody had ever seen, and he said that he was out this way to go on a hike and decided to try the church instead because someone had given him a Rice Krispie a few weeks ago with an info card, even though he didn't have time to talk. Yeah. That was me, losers. It felt pretty good to see that my method that was trashed on was more successful than any others. Hopefully the Spirit or something told him to try it out... I wouldn't know. I just gave out the sugar square.

My missionary efforts aren't very trackable in an app, but I don't feel like that makes them any worse. Most of my conversations end without a return appointment, but to hold a strangers attention for 2 hours on a college campus talking about religion seems more effective in helping people learn about God than getting their phone number and bothering them a few times to come to an activity.

CATEGORY: NEGATIVE TERMINAL (DANCEGATE)

Most of you are far too young. In fact, I think all of you are. If you were alive for this, please respond to this email either correcting the timeframe I have in my mind or tell me the secret to immortality, whichever is applicable.

The event I am referring to is the Watergate Scandal. History class should have gone over it. Richard Nixon, caught in shameful situations, which were then blown open by the media until everyone knew about it? But it was very hush-hush in the federal government, involving only those who needed to know with security clearance; the irony being that everyone and their mom was talking about it among the American public.

I affectionately refer to the events of the Saturday night, November 2, as Dancegate. Think Footloose mixed with the missionary standards book mixed with Matilda and the Trunchbull. I will break it down (not on the floor) for you and describe the happenings.

The YSA planned a stake YSA Halloween dance. I guess they do it every year. We had invited people to come. We didn't expect many to come because they are usually busy, but we figured someone would. We planned a phone lesson for 8 o'clock; upon its commencement we would leave the dance and go into a room for the lesson, then return.

It is Halloween. What do you do on Halloween? Wear a costume. Duh. Companion was lame, didn't really want to do anything. I wasn't going to go out and buy a costume, but I wanted to do something at least. I cut out small circles and taped them to my white shirt to become the 3 hole punched version of plain white Will. I credit the Office wholly for that joke.

There were more missionaries there, of course. It is a stake activity, after all. They all had friends who came with them. The Champlain sisters (3), who are also over YSA, came with flower leis. They were still wearing regular prosyletizing clothes, just like we were, but had on a flower lei each because it is fun. The zone leaders made an appearance briefly before it started, but they had plans tonight so they didn't stay. After they left, the Gatineau sisters came with their friends too. The total is currently sitting at 7 missionaries, 3 sets. I was having fun! I was teaching some of our new friends how to dance, I was laughing a lot and talking to new members, helping them laugh a bit too because they seem to struggle recognizing church as a place where you can smile. I hardly talked to the other missionaries. Companion was standing with his arms folded talking to a member, and he was having fun too. He just isn't much for dancing, which is fine. I line danced to a couple of songs and helped people learn them. Then the Macarena came on, so of course everyone did that one. 

After that, it was time for our lesson, so we went into a room and had a lesson. It was good. We came back to the gym and saw the Gatineau Elders. They had a lesson earlier, so they came a little late. I had barely seen them for more than 3 minutes when the zone leaders came storming in and said "everybody has to leave." We all looked at each other, confused, and he said, "Now! President said so!" Immediately, we piled into cars and went home at 8:30, about 30 minutes before curfew.

I was so pissed on the way home. Heaven forbid we do anything even slightly enjoyable. Nobody was doing anything against any standard, most of us were just standing around talking to our new friends. What was the problem? Gathering? That we were "hanging out"? The mission president texted us to call him when we got home. I kept my mouth shut because I would have gone off on him. He said that he was "trying to better understand what took place tonight". He said he had "got a call that the missionaries were wearing costumes and dancing," and so he sent the zone leaders to go check it out. He said they found "multiple sets of missionaries 'gathering'", and that he was just "trying to make sense of the events". He made it sound like we had done something wrong. It was like a trial, finding evidence so that we could be exposed on a future date.

We went to church the next day. I talked to the Champlain sisters. They told me what happened to them as well. The mission president called them and rebuked them too. Apparently, the bishop's wife called the mission president. I guess the Macarena was too much for her to handle. In a frickin YSA.

We have an Elder who I will refer to as Elder T. He graduated college, had a steady job, then felt like he should go on a mission at 24. So he did, and he is almost done. This is his last transfer. He and his companion showed up at the Riverside ward on Sunday with their friend who only speaks French. They were going to translate for him because the zone leaders don't speak French at all. He was already annoyed about the night before, but then the zone leaders told him he had to leave Riverside because it "wasn't their ward". Elder T was outraged. He left all of the zone chats.

Then, we got a text from the president that night. He sent us screenshots from the stake president about the dance. They were treating it like a full on court case. The stake president asked what the rules and guidelines were for missionaries at activities. We didn't receive that answer in the screenshots. I guess there were some "more traditional members" who were aghast that the missionaries wore costumes (flower leis and paper dots were the only ones, everyone else wore normal proselytizing clothes) and danced. The Macarena.

I tried to talk to the bishop about an idea for an activity I had (college major night), and he blew me off and acted annoyed that I was even talking to him. I tried to have a friendly interaction with one of the senior missionaries and he warned me, "careful, Elder." How is it possible that everyone here is such a killjoy? I would like to say that I have a friendly personality that isn't over the top, but I guess it's too much for a missionary.

The Canada Montreal Mission is messed up. We are not allowed to talk to other missionaries without being chastized for out behavior. We cannot smile, dance, or wear paper dots without someone getting on our case. My suck-up companion apologized to the mission president for all the trouble we caused. I was a little annoyed. We aren't supposed to say anything negative, we must only be finding 6 hours a day by walking up to people and telling them about the church. The area I am in is messed up. There is a reason why new members stop going.

We have what I like to call "phantom rules". They are rules that are not found in the standards, but seem to exist that everyone refuses to break for fear that they get in trouble. Everyone is expected to just go along with what happens. I'm pretty freaking sick and tired of going along.

I talked to one of the Champlain sisters after church (20-Kuit, no need to worry). She said through tears that she couldn't make it to June. Not like this. She said that everyone here was more focused on rules than on helping people learn about Jesus Christ. I told her I knew how she felt, probably more than most. I told her that if she left, I'd leave with her. She said, "I can't do this. I'm dying. My soul is dying." The Canada Montreal Mission is breaking the spirits of many. Not just me. The only ones who seem to have any happiness are those who embrace the culture completely or those who have figured out how to fly under the radar and lie through their teeth at the meetings. Everyone else is suffering. My testimony of the church is falling fast. My testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and his example is stronger than ever.

I know that my experience is not normal. But something really ought to be done. Not for me, but for the other missionaries. They are suffering. They are unhappy. This is a toxic place and it is taking its toll on a lot of people. I talked to another sister who is about to go home, and she said "my mission was 18 months of hell with some moments of heaven throughout." Are you kidding me? That should be opposite!

Why aren't we allowed to talk to other missionaries? We might figure out we're not alone? I don't understand.

My message this time: mind your own freaking business people. One thing that I thought everyone's parents taught them is that you can only worry about yourself. When someone else isn't following rules, or doing something that isn't okay, or affecting you somehow, the only thing you can control is you. This usually came after trying to make my brother clean our room, but I think it applies to the church as well. Would you quit worrying if someone else is following the rules you've decided upon? Would you stop worrying if someone is "polluting" your temples or your churches if they aren't doing everything you are? Not everyone does this, but if you are, freaking check yourself. People leave the church because of stuff like that. Not that it matters either way, but if your goal is to keep people involved, you do a pretty sucky job.

Sorry. I got a little fired up there. If you couldn't tell, I care quite a bit about that.

I love all of you! Hearing from you keeps me going sometimes. Sorry this one is pretty long. This time I had actual events to write about. I promise that this week went a bit better than others, there was just a major crash at the end that kind of ruined it. Don't stay up late at night worrying about me: I'm figuring things out.

I am writing a podcast. Every time something bad happens, I get material. Shoutout to McKenna Mondays podcast as well. They're really good.

That's probably all from me. I have lots of other things I could talk about, but this email is already longer than the Mount Timpanogos hike. If you email me with a question, I will happily answer.

Au revoir,

Will Ott