It's A Colorful Life

Guess what?

....I crowd surfed.

I learned two things:

I never want to be a smoker.

I never want to crowd surf again.

My Finest Hour

2 down...

1 to go...

I can do it, Sister Dalton!

T.G.I. Friday

Oh my GOODNESS.

I am so thankful it is Friday.

To sum up my week:

end of 3rd term + disappointing score on solo + no BYU scholarships + high-school-never-ends drama + nightmares and no good sleeping = extremely difficult time and slightly blue me.

But I have good news!

IT'S OVER!!!!!!! WOOOHOOOOO!!!!!!!!

I am celebrating.

Once upon a time I was nine(this DOES relate). One of my favorite things to do ever is ride in the car with my daddy. We sing. And roll the windows down. We sing REALLY loud. And quite badly... For some reason, when I was nine, I was scared to be a teenager because, you know, teens have just wretched reputations: Moody, rebellious, immature, etc. As a nine-year-old I vowed to be a unique teenager. Without those awful words clinging on to me wherever I went.

And do you know how I decided to tell my Dad this?

"Dad, when I'm a teenager, I'm going to be different. I'm not going to be a normal teenager. I'm going to roll my windows down when I drive and sing REALLY loud."

Ya, I dunno what I was thinking. That particular action DEFINES teenager. Sadly, in that regard, I failed to "not be a normal teenager".

Today I drove to Decades with my BEST FRIEND.
We celebrated the end of the week by singing incredibly loud and horrible to Queen, The Eagles, Journey, Bon Jovi, ABBA, you name it.
Then we danced around The Gateway to the smooth jazz as we drank some delicious hot chocolate and got offered a modeling job but we RIPPED UP THE PAMPHLET because the show was on Sunday. We even saw our very first secret clubbing party (no, not golf) through this creepy picket fence! We ate hot soup from Kneaders and had a dance party at The Dog House-just us two and a bunch of dogs.

How can a Friday get any better? I love just being happy with my best friend. And I love the up-swing of things. I love the weekend. I love shaping up and choosing to be happier.

And I have so much to look forward too!


Festival of Colors!

BYU-I still hasn't sent out scholarships and I have a little more hope I'll qualify there.

YW General Broadcast tomorrow night.

A weekend alone in a beautiful house.


You know what? Bad things always come to an end. And they certainly make you more grateful.

Thank goodness the end is now. Thank goodness it's FRIDAY.

Fewf!

Hopefully the weather will feel my relief and excitement and catch on......

Where A Kid Can Be a Kid

Oh man.

Oh man, oh man, oh man.

I am eighteen (and 1/2...remember my half birthday last week?!) years old. According to the 26th amendment, I can vote. I can also buy dry ice. And run away to Vegas and get married without my parents permission if I really wanted to.

Yes, I am an adult.

Yes, I am going to college in a few short months.

Today I taught piano to a boy I've been teaching for FIVE YEARS. I love him and his little brother and sister whom I also teach. They call me "Miss Shelby". Every day when I leave their house I hear in unison "THANK YOU MISS SHELBY!". They were inspiration for my blog. They don't necessarily practice as much as they should, and they sometimes fight about who has to have their lesson first. But, today before I left their house, their mother stopped and asked me if I was going to be teaching piano next year or not.

My blood froze and I got all these knots in my stomach and tried REALLY hard to not let all the emotions welling up inside of me get past my chest. If they did, the tears would come.

I'm not teaching piano next year. I've been avoiding that realization for months and months. But, I'm leaving! to the far away town of Rexburg, Idaho. How in the world can I continue to teach the boy I have seen every week for five years?

I looked at him and could tell he was thinking the same thing. He didn't hug me or say anything, but I could tell he was feeling the same emotion I was. The girl with her curly blonde hair almost came and hugged me as she stopped bouncing around to listen to our adult conversation. I could feel all three of them and the love they had for me and I for them.

How can I leave?

I  won't have a job. Teaching piano is out. Unless I start all over and get students up in college-aged-people populated Rexburg. I'm not so sure that will work out. And what about my nannying job? What about Blake, Andrew, and Carter? Who I sing songs to and feed and I see them every week as well. I won't be able to take care of them a gazillion miles away....

I can't tickle Carter and wink at him and see him laugh and laugh...

Where will I get any income? 

How will I pay for school?

I don't even have a car!

AH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH AH AH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
(this is my slightly hyperventilating and then puking it up in words on the computer)








No, I am not sad. I am really happy. Just especially sentimental.





Where did these feelings emerge? Well...it's been a long time coming. But, it hit me at

Spring Fling!


Oh how much fun I had. My secret longing of not being an adult showed through by taking my date to Chuck-E-Cheese. Don't look so incredulous! It was great! I used to love Chuck-E-Cheese.

In fact, when I was 7 years old I had my birthday party there, then immediately scrapbooked it the next day with the heading "A Beary Fun Party" (bears creepily encircled the page).

Spring Fling happens to be the last girl's choice dance I will ever attend. So, naturally, I decided to live up my highschool childhood and go to Chuck-E-Cheese one last time. As a kid. NOT an adult.

After all, there motto is "Where a kid can be a kid".
I admit, I was seduced. 
That is exactly what I was looking for. 

I put coins in my eyes

I competed to get the most tickets (273. Nice huh?)

I ate disgusting greasy and kid-sized pizza.....

....and cake(hand delivered by Chuck-E himself)....

....as I watched the creepy mechanical entertainment provided (they have gone modern. Chuck-E was singing his own version of Bieber's "Baby". Did you know he says 'baby' 55 times in that song? I digress...)

My date and I even got to take a personal picture with Chuck-E!

Oh! OH! I got to ride the up-and-down car next to Chuck-E and get our black-and-white photo printed!

Cade did too! (My shrinking charm didn't work out so well...)

That's better...

Aren't we all beautiful? And definitely Kids. We are so kids. 

I had A BLAST. It couldn't have been a more fun last-girls-choice-dance-ever dance. Cade was the perfect date and I enjoyed every second of it.


I do admit though....there were moments of nostalgia....where I couldn't help taking a small sentimental journey throughout high school and the 30+ dances I have attended.

I am going to miss high school dances. I know they don't really matter, but I looked forward to them a lot.

When I got home and had spent the entire day being a kid at Chuck-E-Cheese, I realized I'm not a little kid anymore. Maybe at heart, but still: I have a lot of responsibility coming my way.

Sad moment.

But I have tons to look forward to as well. And what about being a kid with MY kids?! That can happen right?

Life is good.

I am happy.

And very grateful right now.

Even though I have Senioritis pretty bad and it's hard to go to school and I just waste my time writing on this wonderful blog of mine.

Guess what?! ITS SPRING. Just the thought is like a ball of sun entering into my stomach and filling my whole body with HAPPINESS! 

I love the Spring.

Life is forever going to be full of happiness. Even if I do have responsibility and I'm leaving away from home and becoming an adult.

It's just another stage! Where I can be a child at heart and love the new and different things that come my way.

It's all perspective, right? 

Essentially:

Anywhere,

is a place 

where a kid can be a kid. 

In Which I Draw

Yesterday I drew for SIX HOURS.

It's crunch time right now in school. End of third term: Always the hardest.

So I had to do six hours for my painting class to get an A.

This is what I came up with:

Billie Holiday. One of my favorite singers. Lady Day. :)

Another bicycle kissing picture. Not sure why I like these lately... Cute, right?! 

And Ella. This one's just a sketch. But I ended up liking it a lot. 

I have been slowly discovering how much I like art this year.

I hope your enjoying the process too :)

A Quick Vocab Lesson

portmanteau word

a word composed of parts of two or more words, such as chortle from chuckle and snort and motel from motor and hotel. The term was first used by Lewis Carroll to describe many of the unusual words in his Through the Looking-Glass (1871), particularly in the poem "Jabberwocky."

eg. Prom + Drama = Prama.

prama
the worst. Something I will not miss when I go to college.

Sometimes I Wish I Were Spanish.

I took Spanish in Jr. High for a couple years. But never got very good and basically just enjoyed clever banter with the teacher and learned cheesy romantic phrases I could say to people.

My favorites:

Hay nadie mejor que tu para mi
Mi corazon esta con usted
Espero que pronto este con tigo mi pichon
Sin ti mi corazon espinado
Biselo espera que veo por el momento su cara otra vez
Nuestro amor conquista todas las
Hasta que nuestros caminos se cruzan una vez más mi amor
Digo que mi último adios, quierdo
Besame tonto

Look 'em up.

And yes, I have successfully used these phrases writing letters to my friend in Bolivia. 

Whoever says French is the language of love--LIED. Spanish totally is.

I know this from personal experience.

Those Latin men.....they just love me for some reason.

Let me tell you a story.

Well.....two five.

1) Once upon a time I went to Saint George with my bestie for a weekend. We enjoyed reading of Elvis and swimming in the pool with her cousins. Very casual. Relaxed. Summer vacation.

As we enjoyed the warm air and sat on chairs talking to one another, a Latin family continued to pass us to and from the pool. We waved cordially each time they did. But I suppose they took this as an invitation to come and hang out with us for four hours. Ya, FOUR HOURS. Three Latin boys show up half an hour later on the grass hill in front of us and don't say anything. They just sit down and watch Hannah and I read (I didn't think it could be that entertaining, but who knows?!). So after a couple seconds we stop reading and give a friendly hi. Making conversation was a little hard since none of them spoke. When they did get a couple words out, we knew they could speak English and Spanish.

We asked them about their life. But....honestly I don't think they were that interested in talking. Just watching. So....We improvised. "Wanna play a card game?"

They did.

Anyway, the entire four hours we hung out with them they really hardly said anything. It's what happened afterward that was interesting.

Maggie and her friend (Thirteen year old cheerleaders. Use your imagination) came out as soon as they realized three boys were talking to Hannah and I. They exchanged numbers and after the boys went home texted them late into the night (Social life these days....Sheesh).

Hannah and I wake up in the morning to find that all three boys had a crush on us.

Oh crimony.

Ridiculous? Yes. They wanted to know where we lived so we could all hang out again. NO WAY. They were all under 16 anyway! I am no cougar (schoolwise--yes. Just not in that sense).

Apparently they thought we were beautiful and wonderful and smart and funny.

(I might have been flattered if I wasn't 3 years older than them).

2)  Once upon another time, my brother was really good at soccer (still is for that matter). He had a couple boys on his team that were Latin. Fun, cute kids. (Notice the word kids). They came over for a birthday party. Hannah and I were hanging out in my room when three of them appeared downstairs. One whispers (I'm not sure if it was to himself or to us).

"Pretty ladies"

The other pointed to a picture.

"Is this you? Beautiful. Your eyes are so beautiful"

More compliments.

Something about Hannah being a romantic. The boys girlfriend back home. How they speak Spanish fluently.

We talk for a few moments. Then they leave. Their final words:

"dormir con la noche los ángeles"
(Sleep with the Angels tonight. Nice huh?)

3) Once upon a time I went to the gym (still do for that matter too). I went with my mom and dad and we decided to take a good round in the steam room. Finished with my workout a few minutes earlier than them, I went ahead without them. I got in my swimsuit and entered the steam filled room, sat across from a man (the steam room is super awkward because there's just a bunch of old men and nobody talks because you go to relax). As soon as I sit down, he stands up.

Huh?

He walks over and sticks out his hand.

Being the polite person I am, I shake it.

He pulls me up off the chair and gives me a HUGE HUG. This is not what I was asking for. And what's worse, a forest of hair is on his back.

Blek.

He pulls away and sits down RIGHT next to me. He starts asking me about Christmas and family, etc. Meanwhile, I take a good look at him.

He's in his late forties I'd say. Definitely older than my dad. Latin. Hairy. And lonely.

Ricardo's his name. Perfect.

He continues to inch closer to me and I feel slightly uncomfortable how he says he doesn't have family to spend Christmas with when....

My Dad walks in!

HALLELUJAH!!

I say (louder than normal. Which is loud. Because normally I am pretty loud) "Hey, DAD!".

The next ten minutes were spent in complete awkwardness as Ricardo jumps up with fright and slides ten feet away from me until he finally just leaves the steam room.

4) Once upon a time I went to a Latin Jazz dance at BYU and danced....Latina for a couple hours. This boy(I should say man) Lamoni wanted to take me out. Well...until he learned I was still a sophmore in high school.

5) Once upon a time a couple hours ago (this is where we get to today), I was at AF high for Region Solo/Ensemble festival, and what do you know?! I sang a Spanish song. BEAUTIFUL. Nana, by Manuel De Falla.

Listen: (and pretend it's me singing)


(Notice the fire burning in the background throughout the piece. Mmm.)

I was already in the Latin mood, when once again, a Latin boy hits on me outside of class.

I just don't know what it is with those guys.

But hey, they got guts. And a certain Latin spirit. I've always kind of wanted to dance around in a red and white dress with flowers in my hair and be all spicy and sing Spanish love songs.

But, alas, it is not so.

I think it's best if I keep away from those situations considering my history with Latin men.

Adios.

P.S. Today's my half-birthday! And you know what that means!!!! (I don't either....but it's fun anyway)

Today.

An opportunity came.



If you are confused, scroll down....a little more.....a little more. See that post? Jammin' Toast? Well, I talk about how I am bad at grasping opportunities. And also how I WAS GOING TO GRASP OPPORTUNITIES.

Now listen to my day.

Stake conference: exceptional. Come home: nap. Then I prepare for my potential BYU-I roommate to come over and meet her for the first time. I whip up some pancakes, bake some cookies, and clean the kitchen. Her family comes over and Hannah too because all three of us are rooming, and we enjoy a wonderful typical Sunday meal at the Framptons' (except the pancakes were green this week for Saint Patrick's Day).

I really liked my potential roommate. She was pleasant and kind. I discovered she is incredibly talented as well. She played a ten minute 3rd movement of Opus 54 (or something like that) on the piano! Showing up my jazzy version of Jingle Bells by a long shot. Her dad sits down at the piano and asks what my favorite jazz song is. Hannah pipes up and tells him for me "It Was Only A Paper Moon". OK, Maybe not my FAVORITE. But, one of them. He starts playing it. No sheet music. Just the most beautiful jazz piano ever. My heart melted (it always does a bit when I listen to jazzy love songs). So I start to sing with him. We jam together. Singin' and playin' Paper Moon while our families enjoy. Awesome experience.

I'm shown up once again finding out my potential roommate is a wedding singer and she sings some song in this gorgeous rustic voice of hers. But I enjoyed it. I show her my room and the three of us make a nice cake. Then they head home. Hugs later, they are out the door. My mom asks how I like her and I truthfully say I think she is really fun and very talented.

Then my mom informs me: "Ya, her dad actually owns his own recording studio. His brother coached David Archuleta. The whole family is in the music business!"

MOTHER. WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THIS ONE MINUTE EARLIER BEFORE THEY LEFT MY HOUSE. WHY?!?!


My mind went through all the possibilities.

Shelby Frampton: Wedding Singer.

Shelby Frampton: Jazz Vocalist.

Shelby Frampton: Concert Pianist.

Meh. But the man with the recording studio just left my house. Without me sharing my talents very well at all. Just a sloppy piano Christmas piece and a casual singing along to his amazing jazz skills. Not to mention his daughter could do the above occupations lightyears better than I could.

My goal?! MY GOAL.

I feel so inadequate.



It's like the time The Voice of Disneyland (Yes, I just said the Voice of Disneyland) came to my house to see his niece in MY piano recital. Who works for Disneyland. Who also heard me play my mediocre Jazzy Jingle Bells.

He demonstrated "Welcome to Disneyland! the Happiest Place On Earth now celebrating 50 YEARS OF MAGIC!"

He continued. But I was in so much awe that I don't remember anything he said. His voice was so familiar. Like I had known him my whole life. Like he was MY CHILDHOOD.

I gawked at him for fifteen minutes.

Then he left.

And as he was walking out of my house I realized, It's Hannah's birthday. What an awesome present would it be if I had him call her and do his Voice of Disneyland act? Ya, that would be cool.

Then the nerves came. And the doubt. And the insecurity. And.....the door closed.

Why?


I ask myself all the time.




WHY?

The Jammin' Toast

Alright, alright, I know I have a gazillion secret dreams that aren't really secret because I post them on the internet....


But. This is another one.


I have always had a secret dream to be in a band during High School.


I honestly could care less if it was a horrible band (well....I would WANT to be good) and we only put together one song. But, I want to record one song. In a band. During High School.


It's just one of those things you gotta do, you know?


So I came up with a band name


and my first album


and the band members

The Jammin' Toast

Coolest band name EVER?! Right?

Ya....Most of my friend's didn't think so either. But I think it's great. Bands jam. And jam and toast just go perfectly together.

Carlie, Anna, and I, will be the coolest band. Album name: Drinking Marmalade. Yes?

Just you wait. 

Soon you will hear us on the radio.

Soon being relative. It all just depends on perspective, right?

Anyway.

I went to the AF Talent Show Thursday Night. IT WAS SO FUN. I love listening and critiquing and cheering and voting for all the awesome talents so prevalent in happy valley Utah. My friend was in the piece that WON! 

Check it out. Check it out here.

 But, I'll admit, it made me a little guilty. 

Why?

BECAUSE I WANT TO BE IN A BAND. 

A jazz one preferably. Maybe I'll wear a black dress and black heels and pearls with my hair in a fancy up-do and scat to my heart's desire. And you know what? I could. Because I have talent. A fair amount.

I play piano.

I sing.

I have presence.

I got rhythm (well....usually)

I have musicality.

Yes. Yes I do! (Forgive the appearance of arrogance--This is mostly to convince myself) So how come I never perform in talent shows? Or variety shows? Or I dunno....other shows. Why don't I grasp opportunity? 

Hmm. 

Hmmmmmm......

Mmm. Hmmmm... (If you are curious this is: My contemplation. I still have no idea why I don't grasp opportunity).

As demonstrated in the previous thought, there is NO reason for me to not grasp opportunity. 

Here goes, baby; here goes. 

I, Shelby Alyse Frampton, promise to grasp opportunity. I WILL share my talents. I WILL perform to my hearts desire. From this moment on, when an opportunity arises, I will walk run to take it into my arms and not let go.

The End. 

This Picture is Also Worth 1000 Words

This Picture is Worth 1000 Words

This is...

This is my dream. 

How To Be The Perfect Tourist.

I've been meaning to write about my trip for a couple days now, but I have been hesitant:  How can I convey in one blog post the incredible, once-in-a-lifetime adventure I had last week?

I am going to try anyway.

Read my comments, close your eyes, and imagine it TEN TIMES MORE AMAZING and you will come slightly closer to the real deal.

I LOVED NEW YORK! I never want to live in the city. But I would be perfectly OK with right outside the city so I can travel there when I want to. The buildings were gorgeous! And crazy dense. You could barely walk anywhere and everyone wore black trench coats with black umbrellas and a scarf. EVERYONE. It was a little dull actually. The New Yorkers probably thought me in my pink coat and teal dress and cowboy boots was a little out of place...Hey! They need a little sunshine in their lives I say. Ahem. The were pigeons everywhere and I sang Feed The Birds to them as I skipped up and down the never-ending streets! Night wasn't even night! All the lights were stunning and they lit up the sky so instead of black it was a light grey. The food was incredible (incredibly expensive too). I ate the biggest piece of Cheesecake I have ever had and I even tried some Lamb Gyro Greek pita thing which was yummy. Everything about the trip was just fun and fancy free.

I do apologize though, I was a tad bit...rebellious.

My choir director gave us a few tips before we entered New York. The first:

DON'T LOOK LIKE A TOURIST.
(I thought that was pretty impossible considering we are traveling in large hordes or teenagers all wearing the same choir jacket and talking and laughing loudly. But whatev'. She emphasized it)

She said a few other minor rules. Then again:

DON'T LOOK LIKE A TOURIST.
(Like that was happening!)

And again.

DON'T LOOK LIKE A TOURIST.
(blah blah blah blah)

She mentioned something about how we need to be direct and not draw attention to the fact we don't know our way around New York and we are naive and innocent teenagers from Happy Valley Utah. Something about not getting ourselves into trouble....and being safe.....always being with chaperons...(cough).....and all that jazz.

I sorta kinda blatantly decided I was better than this rule. In my rebellious nature (Good one right? Ha!) I decided to be the epitome of a tourist. THE EPITOME.


I even constructed some basic rules.


#1 Look with fascination
I was pro at this. "Look! It's Lion King!" "Look! That building is gorgeous!" "Look! That staircase leads to the subway. I've NEVER been on a subway before!" I started to feel a bit like the angel in Nephi's vision. But I just a-kept on a-lookin'. It made the trip more fun. And targeted me as TOURIST.

#2 Always have a camera bag and/or backpack and/or large obnoxious purse.
This was probably my most refined quality. I had a camera bag, and a backpack. Usually my camera was hanging around my neck because I never had time to put it back in the bag before I saw another fascinating scene before my eyes! So I had many things dangling around my neck at all times, in all things, and in all places. 


#3 Skip and point.
I did this pretty well too. Like when I saw the statue of liberty. Most were under their black umbrellas. But, Not I! I was definitely skipping and pointing.

#4 Act like everything you see is something new and exciting and consequently--it deserves a picture.
As I mentioned previously, my camera never made it into the camera bag. It was TOO busy! Everything deserved a picture.

#5 Smile and listen to the people trying to sell you things (in other places this might not be a tourist thing. But in New York, it DEFINITELY is)
So...I did this the first day but I stopped. There are way too many salesmen and strange people to listen to them all. The first one got angry at my dear friend, Scott, who was walking next to me and yelled "Get your hand off my woman!". Scott wasn't even touching me. That's when I decided it was best to not give attention to all the crazies on the side of the street.

I don't know if Mama J would approve, but I think being the perfect tourist made this trip all the more wonderful.

And now, a few of my most treasured shots of the trip:

CHINATOWN! So fun. One of my favorite parts of the trip! I bought that lovely parasol I am holding. Although my bartering techniques were a little rusty..."Could I maybe have a discount?"

Look at these beautiful friends. That's us at Chinatown! We got slightly wet from the rain...

I haven't seen Durian in ten years! Not since Malaysia. Chinatown reminded me so much of Malaysia and my childhood! Durian not necessarily being a pleasant part of that--at least the smell

And of course, Carnegie Hall. They wouldn't let me take pictures in the Hall. But this is me right after our performance with the Playbill and ticket stub. And no, those aren't tears in my eyes. ;) It was my very favorite part of tour. The coolest experience of my whole life. 

La Rumbleita! This was the party bus. It bounced up and down as crazies danced and it rode the streets! And no, I didn't ride it. I'm not THAT rebellious.

The choir outside Ellis Island. We sand the National Anthem. Both here at across the street from Ground Zero at the museum. Both were incredibly touching experiences.

I went to Mary Poppins Saturday! Loved it.

LION KING. Childhood dream= fulfilled. The costumes and set and protection was just spectacular. 

Another dream: fulfilled

Me at the statue of liberty!

Times Square

New York at Night

New York was amazing.


I kind of miss it...

Even if I was just a tourist.

That's how I like it!