30 March 2011

Private Idaho

B52's

BYU-I here I come.
Rejection letter for music. Again. I told them I wasn't good enough to audition for these sorts of things. They should have believed me. Oh well. Another one to hang on the wall I 'spose. All my non-existent talent will be put towards my senior recital in early June. If you read this you are invited.

Even though music won't be my major, possibly not even my minor, I will still be attending the Y. Idaho style. I will be avoiding flip-flops, sweats to class, boys in my dorm, and warmth come next school year. My roommate wishes to attend the temple with me once a week, and after facebook stalking my potential bunk mate, I came to the conclusion that (based off merely her profile picture) she plays the harp and looks rather shy. Poor thing doesn't know what she's in for, having to live with me. Nor does the other room of girls in the apartment. They're all in for a lovely surprise.

I have helped a total of 6 boys either ask, or plan the asking for prom. But have yet to be asked myself. I believe I have come to terms that my attendance at prom will be non-existent.

Softball practice gets interesting. We dance on the field, watch our coach pull off moves he shouldn't try, scream like Polynesians, and stick our tongue out when concentrating. (It's something I don't realize I'm doing. No pictures please) I love senior year sports.

26 March 2011

Happy Ending

Mika.

Sharissa is a gem.
We began our late night by discussing books with questionable morals. Books that depicted the life of a high school teenager living outside the boundaries of Utah. I don't think some of us realize how different life is out there. At times I think it another planet.

We then facebook stalked our crushes. Simply to admire all their pictures, discuss their shining personalities, looks and such, and then plan ways for us to get noticed. We both seem to be hit by the love bug. Which is fine, if you're in jr. high. But losing all sanity, vocal abilities and movement when you're 18, well, it shouldn't happen.

Off to the movies. Did we see a grown up movie like The Adjustment Bureau? No, not us. We saw Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Not only did we find ourselves relating to the poor 7th grader who couldn't get noticed by the girl he loved, but we both found the older, punk-looking brother attractive. I thought all hope was lost for us. But in the end Greg gets his girl. Maybe there's a chance?

It's lovely to have someone on the same page as you.

24 March 2011

Why Can't the English?

Henry Higgins. My Fair Lady.

I've done my fair reading of Shakespeare, and works by English authors. And I've figured something out. If we used the language they did, our lives would seem so much more interesting.
Instead of someone saying, "oh that sounds fun" you could say instead "that sounds rather sporting" say "chipper" or "smashing." I would be so much more interested in a person if they used language like this. I'm reading a novel by a British author at the moment, and every paragraph holds me captive. I need to date a foreign boy.

Sharissa writes extremely fabulous stories. I look forward to them regularly, and have now been assigned the position of her editor. I'm honored and thrilled. This girl will go far in life.

Prom? Love to be asked, but the odds aren't in my favor. I'm all for dressing up and attending the movie if I don't attend the real thing. It'll be a ball.

My mom is leaving for the weekend. I don't much like when she leaves. Even if it's for only a weekend. But she more than deserves a weekend with her friends. She's amazing.

3rd term is finally over. 1 more and I'm out for good. I shall never miss these hallowed halls.

17 March 2011

Hyperbolic Orbit

Benjamin Newman. Yes, it is a song.

Physics. It's boring. Can I get an amen?

I wrote a note to Katy to keep myself from falling asleep in class today, it didn't work. I nodded off while writing.
Katy sits in the back, so she reads Pygmalion to keep herself entertained. She also has intriguing people surrounding her. I sit front and center. Surrounded by the boy that doesn't speak to me and the boy that never comes. It's lovely.

I suppose if you did nothing but experiments then physics might be a little entertaining, but when your teacher does the same experiment 3 classes in a row things lose interest for me. Or even when he flies a remote control helicopter around you think class would get exciting, it doesn't. It merely makes me feel uncomfortable due to his inability to fly the dang thing and it nearly takes my nose off.

His voice drones on. And the only thing I take pleasure in is counting how many times his microphone attached to his neck dies and comes back to life. I'm thrilling I know.

I need to graduate.

16 March 2011

The Middle

Jimmy Eat World.
(A continuation from a dinner conversation, to which I wasn't present)

Look around wherever you are, find someone that's normal. Ha, it's impossible isn't it?

Everyone has a weird quirk about them. Everyone.

13 March 2011

Stealing Happy Hours

311. Courtesy of Erin.
Losing an hour of sleep is not my cup of tea.

I suppose a bit of my exhaustion is my own fault. Softball bonding weekend, a new tradition to this season was this weekend. So was my youth conference. I stayed up til 12 or 1 with my girls, to then wake at 7 so as to be at the best of EFY at 8:15. Then I worked my little tail of during a one day wonder. I felt bad leaving 2 overflowing carts and 3 racks of random clothes for the closing shift.... Then off to more youth conference to learn about dating from 4 newlywed couples. Oh what a hoot. And then I conversed with Becca for a few hours late into the night. Although all my fault and am feeling it now, no thanks to Ben Franklin, the weekend was well worth it.
I might have dozed off folding t-shirts at work
I might have left my phone on loud so that the hundreds of kids at EFY could hear Despicable Me minions laughing
I might have understood a total of 4 words from a co-worker with a thick Portuguese accent, which I normally have no problem understanding
I might have said many many things I should have kept inside over the course of the weekend
I might have been too blunt one too many times.
But I received several comments at work about my face being tan.
It was a worthwhile weekend. Sort of.

E.T.

Katy Perry.

Sometimes we obtain hopeless crushes on co-workers. And this song becomes his song. It's embarrassing. If I had one more teaspoon of creep in me I would be stalking him.

The End

Curls and Long Socks

She's easily my favorite, Becca.

Her school picked the worst week for spring break, the very beginning and busiest week of softball. She was home all week and I saw her once. But that once was worth the wait. Our drives or walks could never be replaced by anything. I can spill my feelings to her, tell her things I know I can't tell anyone else, and no matter what happens she takes my side. I've had boy problems, she knows the boy, loves him, but sides with me no matter what. She's my best friend until the end. Love you girl!

07 March 2011

Club Can't Handle Me

Flo Rida.
It wasn't a hard core club, but they were serving fancy drinks, the stamp only appeared under a black light, and admittance under the age of 21 was more expensive than if you were of drinking age. I felt so cool.

I was sitting in front of a couple drinking wine. And the group at the front of the room was clearly wasted up to high heaven. We went to see the performance, which I might add was nothing less than superb. 2 guitars, 2 percussionists, a bassist, and an accordion. You can't get much better. These kind of guys perform at clubs and bars. And me, my little 18 year old, high school student self got to witness the performance.

The drinking was stupid of all the people around me, and I would never wish to act as they did, but I felt like an actual adult walking into a club.

The scene in movies where a small group sits at a high table in a room with stadium-ish seating. They are given a menu of small appetizers, drinks and desserts, they listen to the performers, snap to show their pleasure, and wander off into the night to find a taxi. I felt as if that night I got a small sip of what that life would be like. And for some strange reason that life has always seemed so appealing to me. I'm close to the real deal though. Only 3 years to go.

Sidenote:However appealing this life seems to me, I promise you all to never take a drink.

We R Who We R

Ke$ha.

Play ipod idol. Blast your earbuds so you can't even hear yourself, and sing your little heart out to a song you know word for word. Things get interesting.

I happened to completely lose my voice over the weekend, but I still played. I had Sparky sing with me, and we rocked it. Dance moves, high notes, facial expressions, Ke$ha might as well of been singing instead of me I was that good.

We're all still wondering how the adults didn't hear all this without getting mad. But, then again, the front desk of our hotel called them because of us and all we got was a stern warning. Maybe they took chill pills this weekend.

Hobo You Can't Ride This Train

Louis Armstrong

Being the sort of small town girl that I am, hobo's seem to fascinate me. Living your life out of a shopping cart, and often relying on kindness for your next.... meal.... I've considered becoming a hobo for a week or so. Just to see how it really is. And after this weekend, this idea made it's way onto my bucket list. And possibly my 2011 summer bucket list.

Walking across a bridge in San Fransisco, a bush isn't an odd item to see. There are plants everywhere. You see this bush and it's reasoning for being placed there doesn't even begin to cross your mind. You walk across the bridge, getting closer and closer to the bush. Once you're about 3 feet from the bush. The bush jumps out at you and yells. You scream and run, turn around and realize the bush was really a toothless black hobo with nothing better to do than to sit on a bridge with a fake bush and scare pedestrians. My new hero. And I thought even more of him when we returned to that pier a couple days later and he was walking down the street carrying his bush. I now know what I want to do with the rest of my life.

The homeless were everywhere. Some were very entertaining. Some had signs for food, others were honest and asked for money for booze. We all have our priorities right?

Shots

LMFAO
Theme song for the weekend. Sort of.

Running around San Fransisco for a weekend with a group of musical teenagers a theme song is inevitable. I believe there was more than one, but this one stuck out like a sore thumb. Not because we sang this song everywhere we went, or because we can all relate to the lyrics, but because a few thought it was enjoyable to yell shot, shot, shot shot shot shot! at every exciting moment. And why wouldn't you? Shots make everything more enjoyable right?

01 March 2011

We Can Work It Out

The Beatles.

Spring has sprung, softball has begun, and work is now foreign to me.

Softball. Dirt, chalk, grass, bats; bliss. Only, because of this perfect season, I had to force myself to only work weekends. Yes I do complain about working more than is considered healthy, but it seems so tedious and obsolete. I stand and fold a table that, the second I leave it for another, will become just as messed, if not worse than before. It's annoying. (Tip:fold something you just looked at at a clothing store, or better yet, gently pull out the one labeled the size you desire. I see people doing this and I have to refrain from hugging them to death. They're a godsend. Try it sometime.) But even though I complain I truly do love where I work. The people there make it worth it and more. My Grinch, my ray of sunshine, and everyone in between. I miss you all immensely.

I was only scheduled to work once this week. Yesterday. But they were slow so I was told not to come in. Excited? Absolutely. Disappointed? Indeed. I miss the kids that make me smile no matter what mood I'm in. And since people watching is such a strong habit of mine, working where it's my job to observe, well, it's heaven in a way.

Softball, you bring pure joy to my life. But I will miss my income and dear friends.