A Lesson on Gratitude

For some reason, we are always grateful for things after they are gone. Like boyfriends. And chocolate. Parents. School. A job. Money. Food. You get the idea.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder..." they always say.

I usually tend to agree with Maid Marian when she finishes that quote: "...or more forgetful".

But today I realize it's the truth.

I am grateful for wisdom teeth.

When I had wisdom teeth I didn't have a pool of blood in my mouth at all times that I had to decide whether to swallow or spit out...
...onto a rag. This rag was once used to clean dishes. But will probably be sacrificially burned now. My mom will miss it when it's gone.

I'm grateful for rags.

I'm grateful for broth.

I'm grateful for crying. The sleeping drug knocked me out for 90 minutes, but when I woke up all I could do was cry. Honestly, what a blessing. I was nervous I was going to go crazy and say a list of inappropriate things. Like...what boys I wanted to kiss. That kind of material is never safe on video. So crying was good. At least I was coherent. 

I'm grateful for blood clots. If my blood didn't clot I think I'd stand over the sink for 72 hours (or forever) with my mouth open. Be grateful for blood clots.

I'm grateful for gause.

I'm grateful for my cheeks. You know, I have nice cheeks. I can't wait till they come back.

I'm grateful for ice cream. What a grand excuse to get buckets and buckets of FREE ice cream.

I'm grateful for my family and friends. Who knew that getting your wisdom teeth out gave you the right to boss everyone around all day! My laundry got washed and folded, I watched 4 movies, I had couple spoonfuls of a meal, and even had a change of clothes; all sitting on the same couch cushion! Incredible. Maybe someday if I get some chronic illness I'll remember this perk.
Oh, and your friends all come visit you and chat with you for a while to help with the boredom. I don't know any other time I could get my friends to drop everything and just sit by me while I moan and look hideous. Awesome.

Oh, I'm grateful for smiling. I haven't smiled all day. Not because I'm not happy....I just...can't. The lack of endorphins is a little odd.

I'm grateful for wisdom.

See, when I was younger I thought you lost all your wisdom when you got your wisdom teeth out. Somehow all the knowledge you'd gained till then was stored in those 4 teeth and you had to start over when they were removed. But I realized that getting your wisdom teeth out makes you wise. I mean, really--first time in my life I'm grateful for blood clots.

When you say your prayers tonight, remember to be grateful you can swallow and that you aren't recovering from oral surgery. What a blessing.

Peace out,

Shelby Sue

P.S. Feel free to bring over some ice cream if you want. I promise I'll share ;)

Mother May I?

WARNING: This post is not meant for people who can't handle slightly uncomfortable subjects. Meaning....it's about underwear.

I have had several posts about my underwear, so this shouldn't be too much of a shock. Like when my underwear fell out of my pants during my science review session. Or when I discovered a pair of underwear in the middle of the hall of my apartment complex on the first day of school....then discovered it was mine.

How embarrassing.

Well, underwear seems to always sneak up on me in embarrassing ways. "Granny Panties" isn't my fondest nickname, but hey, everyone has one they don't like that much.

I realized the source of all this underwear humiliation stems back to my childhood days when I let my mom purchase all my underwear.

She would come home from Wal-Mart and say "Shelby! I got you a present!" I'd excitedly run to the grocery bag and she would whip out a 6-pack of cheap packaged underwear.

I was always appreciative because clean underwear is refreshing. And what little girl wants to pay for their own underwear? Ya. None.

So I continued to let my mother buy my underwear.

For a long time.

Too long.

Which really means: I bought (with my own money and not from Wal-Mart) my first pair of underwear last semester.

.....Mostly because my nickname was getting to me.....

It was then, I realized the sad truth of my nickname. I also realized how my mother is living in her own little world when it comes to the size of my bottom.

I considered making this picture into one of those newly popular "meme's" entitled: 

What I think my size is./What my mother thinks my size is.

Or this one:

Enlarged to show detail.

I mean, I don't think it was my mom's intention to buy me underwear that was 3X larger than my actual size.....it just didn't occur to her that my bum isn't humongous.

Now I realize why my roommates snickered every time I changed in my room. I could literally duck tape a half of a rubber kickball to each of my cheeks and my underwear still wouldn't hug them quite tight enough.

The realization of the drastic size difference between my underwear just hit me while I was packing today and I had to share with my fellow bunk-mates.

We laughed.

As Tara put it "On a scale from 1-10, 1 being bloomers, and 10 being sexy, Shelby's underwear is below bloomers".

I guess that puts me in the negative. 

Good thing I'm re-vamping my underwear collection this Christmas. 

I think I'm going to have a ceremonial burning of all "Granny Panties" so I can have a clean slate.

Also, I think I might tell my mother I can handle buying my own underwear from now on.

Thank you, thank you. I know it's progress.

But remember, these things do take time. 

Wish me luck.

Rexburg Remembered

18 months.

What a strange allotment of time.

Rexburg, Idaho, has been my home for almost 18 months.

I changed my life here. I completed 45 credits of college, joined Cross Country and Student Alumni Association, gained a testimony of missionary work, made best friends, gave away best friends, developed my painting talent, had some boyfriends here and there, made hard decisions, was manipulated and degraded and taken advantage of, found a better balance of judgement and mercy, ate ice cream at Neilsen's almost every week, danced and sang in the kitchen, listened to my record player in the dark in the living room, had photo shoots and bonfires at the sand dunes, cried at the beauty of a summer valley, got lost in a riverbank, watched the most spectacular firework show west of the Mississippi, hated Satan more every day, loved God more every day, rode a wagon to the grocery store, ran miles and miles through cornfields and dusty roads and Christmas lights, finished my first timed-5K, lost 25 lbs., celebrated two birthdays and my first 4th of July away from home, sang in the shower, cried....a lot--but many happy tears, had slumber parties, fulfilled the hardest calling I've ever had, learned how to be a Christ-like caregiver, hiked a snow-covered mountain, grew up, learned that life isn't just for fun--it's a battle to be won, basked in the company of beautiful children, basked in the company of angels, had a kiss or two, saw my best friend fall in love and get engaged, saw another best friend conquer the world, threw out my back, learned the importance of a mother, sang in Women's choir, recovered from painful shin splits, held hands and looked at the stars, crawled through the ice caves, laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed, went to my first drive-in movie, heard someone pray for the first time, was filled at times with so much of God's love for His children I couldn't speak without His power and truth bursting from me, got called to serve a mission, was tried and tested and refined, and was continuously prepped and molded so I could successfully conquer the next 18 months of my life....

Cleveland,

I can't wait to serve you.

But, I must admit, the short and sweet glimpse of time I had here in Rexburg changed my life. I probably won't come back here. The memories will be like another life. A flash of brilliance from my past forevermore where I became a woman.

The separation is hitting me. Rexburg:  Goodbye, goodbye. I never realized till now the Spirit of Ricks is so real. And so inspiring. Please help me create that in my home. I don't want to lose the light I've gained here. Let me take it to Ohio. Let it grow.

But, for now...

Thank you. For the joy of an adventure. A journey. A blessing.

An 18 months.


I'm going to miss you.

As Sisters In Zion

On Saturday I went and took a picture in front of the Rexburg temple with about 80 other future sister missionaries. That number isn't even close to the actual number of sisters leaving on missions from BYU-Idaho. The latest report is that the student body population is dropping by 3,000 for next semester--almost all of those deferring are new sister missionaries. The same time we gathered here in Rexburg, other sisters gathered to the temples in Salt Lake City, Logan, Provo, and Hawaii to take a picture and celebrate our opportunity to share the gospel. We are living in an incredible time. 

Only two more months till I report!

Hurrah for Israel!

SURPRISE!!!

Eleven Years of Love...and More to Come

Oh, Hannah Banana. I remember when I lived in Malaysia and I got an email from my friend Lexi that said:  "I can't wait for you to move back to Utah so you can meet my friend Hannah! She has red hair!".
How was I supposed to know that was you? That "Hannah with red hair" was going to be my best friend and change my life forever?

We met when we were nine. Both of us small, plump, obnoxious 4th graders, and far too creative for our own good. We promised to be best friends right then and there.

We came up with grand plans about our future together. "When we get to college, we can be roommates and do whatever we want! We can eat pancakes all day and watch TV!"

What a idea! Ha.

I remember that first April Fools together I tricked you into believing I was moving back to Malaysia and leaving you. Though I was being sneaky and mean, you're face fell and I could see the fear and saddness in your eyes. You said to me "Don't worry Shelby. We don't have to live in the same place to be best friends. I will email you."

Then, of course, I shot those sweet words down with the truthful reply: "You don't have email." Ha.

Well, when you found out it was all a joke we laughed and laughed together; but I've always remembered the love that shone through you for me when you thought I was going to leave you.

I remember we tested in the A.L.L. class just so you wouldn't have to move to Freedom Elementary School. So you could stay with me...

We lived through the awkward next couple of years trying to fit in and find ourselves. We relied on each other. We made music videos to Bohemian Rhapsody, dreamed of creating our own restaurant: The BB&D, held cooking classes, had dirt bomb wars, creeped to boys' houses in our class and dropped of secret notes and tumbleweeds.

Junior High was rough. Isn't it for everyone? But we stuck through it together. We even loved each when we only wore basketball shorts and sweatshirts and had greasy hair. You liked me even though I wore Mountain Ridge wood coins as earrings and I liked you even though your eyeliner went around your entire eye like a raccoon and your life-long dream was to be a cat-lady. Good times :)

9th grade you became obsessed with the 80's. Probably one of my favorite years; going to D.I. every weekend, being the queens of the stake dances, falling in love, and growing up.

We became extremely close that year. I saved all the comic strip notes you drew me. They are in my closet. I've saved almost everything you've given me, actually. You have you own filing folder: "Stuff from Hannah".

I have an email folder named "Hannah" too. I found this gem today looking at our old email chains:

"I can definitely see us being those ornery old ladies who go play bingo on saturday nights. We'll probably be friends for forever, unfortunately. I don't know if I can get rid of you. Haha. Just kidding. We can bring our husbands and go do old people stuff all the time. Like play golf, and what not."




You wrote this to me when we graduated from Junior High.

Once again, we were faced with the prospect of being separated. This time though, it wasn't an April Fools joke, it was for real. I went off to Lone Peak High School, you left me to American Fork High School. We were both scared. But we knew that we could be best friends even if we went to different schools:

"Promise you won't forget about me over at Lone Peak?" you asked.

"I promise. We will always be best friends Hannah. Going to different schools isn't going to change that."

And it didn't.

That first year of high school was hard for us. We were both lonely. Both a little confused. Both a little heartsick. But, as always, we had each other.

What a crazy time of life?! We had a group of friends at two high schools, planned an activity every weekend, went on double dates, did each others hair for school dances, had our winter video game marathons, went to DISNEYLAND together, and made our first "List of the Agenda".

We fought more often than normal in High School. We were changing. We were different. It was hard sometimes. But I'd open my door at night to a baggie of M&M's and a sweet note from you. Or I'd slave away to make you some homemade rolls to apologize. We would predict each others futures while we looked at the stars on your roof and watched as Dumbledore's Illuminator kept taking the light out of the corner street lamp. Or drink lemonade on the porch in our homemade sundresses.

I held you when your heart broke.

I cried when I sang the line in "I'm Trying To Be Like Jesus" in church that said I'm learning to serve my friends because I thought of you. And how much I loved you and was trying to serve you. Even when it was hard.

I transferred schools Junior year to be a closer to you.

You contemplated having a fake identity and joining the Lone Peak Marching band with me :)

We talked almost every day.

When we came to college our 4th grade dream came true. ROOMMATES! I think I learned to love you more in the first semester of school than I ever had before.

Then I moved to Florida and you to Kansas. And Hannah, those 4 months were the longest we'd been away from each other in 11 years. Wow.

We grew and learned and transformed. Another semester with you in college and once again you took care of me with your love, sweetness, service, dedication to God and family, meals(I'd probably have starved without them), laughter, and friendship.

You have been there for me through IT ALL. Every hardship and weakness. You know me better than anyone. Truly.

And I love you. Truly.


Two months ago I came into your room and hugged you from behind and kissed your hair and just stayed their for a moment to chat. Lately, I've treasured every moment I'm with you.



"Shelby, will you be my maid of honor?" you asked.

Tears filled my eyes and fell onto your head as I responded "Of course".



You are soon to be Hannah Hartshorn. And I will have to give you away to your new best friend.



It's a little sad in a way. And I cry all the time when I think of it. But, they aren't tears of sadness. They are tears of blissful, wonderful, joyful, happiness. I cry when I run pass the temple and think how you are getting sealed their to the love of your life. I cry when I watch your engagment photo slide show at FHE. I'm so full of emotion I have to leave. I cry when I see you and Nathan watching "It's a Wonderful Life" in our living room. I cry when you send me a picture of your wedding dress on you. It's one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. I cry when I wrap your wedding gift or when I make scandalous invitations for your Bachelorette party.

I cry when I tell people I am going to be able to sit in the Celestial Room with you and watch you create your own eternal family.

Words cannot describe the joy.

You did it, Hannah.

You made it to the temple with the man you love.

And even though I am giving you up to something greater, I know those first words of comfort you gave me when we were nine are still true.

We will always be best friends.

Forever.

Even if life takes us in different directions and we sometimes don't see each other for years. I know we will talk and write and laugh and love, like always. Our paths will always cross. Our kids can play together and we can go play golf with our husbands and play bingo as old fat ladies, just like you envisioned.

"We don't have to be in the same place to be best friends."



And we can be best friends forever.




For Eternity, in fact.

I love you, Hannah.

Feeling Festive

Drop Out

After spontaneous 20 minute water-coloring activities all I want is to:

• Drop out of school.
• Move to Paris.
• Become a painter.
• Eat crepes for breakfast.
• Read fine literature in a hammock.
• Become a secret pastry chef.
• Sell rolls and artwork on a streetside.
• Make a one-man-band.
• Go to Jazz clubs and drink lemonade in the corner.
• Write a children's novel.
• Get filthy rich. 
• Fall in love.
• Travel to all 7 continents. 
• Take afternoon naps.
• Go to the opera.
• Decorate a house.
• Sail to China.

Called to Serve

"Dear Sister Frampton,

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Ohio, Cleveland Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 18 months...

You should report to the Provo Missionary Training Center of Wednesday, February 20, 2013."


I am serving a mission. I am called to be a full-time witness of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I am bursting with joy at the opportunity to serve the people in Ohio!  

I'M GOING TO BE A MISSIONARY!!!!!!!!!!!
 

And the gathering of Israel continues...

The Worst Thing about D.I.

When you buy It's A Wonderful Life on VHS, put it in to watch on a snowy day, and you realize My Turn on Earth made it into the wrong case...

The Peeing Pupil Puzzle

 It all started while I was reading Clementine to the class. In this children's novel, Clementine is a spunky girl who is in constant warfare with the pigeons dirtying up her window sill. As I am rendering this story to my 2nd graders, a hand raises.
"We all decided that she should put diapers on the pigeons so they poop inside the diapers"
Another child pipes up:
"No! We decided that diapers wouldn't help any because they would just get really full and fall off onto the people".
"Ewwww" the class somehow says in unison. It's as if they plan these things.

An argument breaks out.

Help me. 

I reel their attention back in by trying to get them interested in the story again. Thankfully, it works out alright but immediately after the bell rings for recess. My cooperating teacher and I get the kids all lined up when Joshua--the troublemaker of the class--bursts through the door gasping for breath.

"There's pee on the floor in the boys bathroom! He did it again!"

Chaos breaks loose.

Children are gasping and gossiping and the line of 7 year old looks more like a clump of bees flitting around the classroom in a excited panic.

I didn't realize pee was such a big deal.

My cooperating teacher runs out to the hall and into the boys bathroom. Of course, all the students follow along with the four other 2nd grade classes and their teachers.

One teacher tries to bring order back to the school "Alright 2nd graders, out to recess!". They scramble away.

Curious, I make my way over to the huddle of teachers.

"Every day for two weeks this has been happening." one of them whispers.
"Even after applying the check-out system it doesn't seem to have stopped him!" another exclaims.
"Didn't they put a camera by the door over there?"
"Ya, but we still don't know the culprit."
"Kids these days..."
"Do you think he just misses?"
"No. It's definitely intentional."
I head back to my classroom and hear:
"Does he think he's funny or something?"

....Well. He's right. Whoever the peeing pupil is. He is hilarious. He probably thinks he is the most rebellious, coolest, little boy at the school. He probably writes about his peeing crimes in his journal each night, documenting the reactions and tactics he uses to escape the check-out system and video camera. Maybe he does it during P.E. to avoid writing his name on the white board. Or perhaps he has created a rotation among his peers to cause distress to their teachers and a good mystery for the students.

I think he's genius.

What a crack up.

I hope they don't find him for a while.

Maybe one day he will get up during the assembly and confess. Then run away as the principal and administrators try to pin him down in order to give him proper punishment. The students will cheer and shout and maybe they will follow him out the back in a huge crowd and he will turn and wave as he runs off into the sun away from the school forever.

I can't wait to be a teacher.

The Testing Center

Grey cloth covers the windows obstructing my vision to the wind and snow outside, though that isn't their purpose. They hide me and the others from the world outside. Hours upon hours I pace the square room. The AC always too high, chills are my constant companion. I mustn't sit. They won't allow it. I slowly walk up and down the rows of metal chairs nailed firmly to the ground. Sometimes they are filled, sometimes they are empty. But it is always quiet. The silence pierces. As I walk, I watch, breathing down the necks of innocent prisoners. Their anxiety is tangible. I feed off it. They never look at me. But when I look over their shoulder with masked suspicion I see their body tense. Their mind goes blank. Their focus flees. A small sense of pleasure sneaks inside my heart from the moment of intimidation. Outside the room the sensation never occurs. But inside--I'm paid for it. Sometimes I hear lead snapping, or watch as a paper floats to the floor. I slink. I sneak. I smirk.  
Nothing Allowed:  each test sheet reads.
Cold sweat drops.
I linger when I sense it.

D.A.C.C.B.D.A.

B.
A.
D.

The test completed they retreat. The scanner eats the exams. They slide through in rhythm--in time with the clock. Constant evaluation. Each containing the destiny of a soul.
They begin to walk into the glass in-cased room to reap the reward of the labor.
My eyes scan the scene.
Ripped jeans. Pen-marked hands. You can feel the fear when a student disobeys.


They think we don't know.



They are wrong.








See you at the Testing Center.

Happy Halloween. 

The Death Star

Star Wars and LoR. Tara and I should start a nerd club. We could watch The Keeper of Time every weekend! Oh wait....we already do.

Love my apartment.

One pumpkin to rule them all...

It's almost Halloween!

7 days.

6 dates.
5 boys.
4 midterms.
3 callings.
2  proposals.
1.5 trips to the ER.
1 break up.
0 energy.

Another Gloomy Monday

Another Gloomy Monday.
Good morning. It's been a while.
Rain inside the taco bus.
I thought trains only stopped at the station.
They don't stop to choose.
We've reached our crossroad.
So have I.
But the train is at a halt.

Goodnight.

At least we moved.
Drizzle.
Drop.
Why has it stopped?

Perhaps the Rain will pause too.
It makes more sense to me.
Dim lights and dusty tunes.
Nobody home to greet me.
The pressure makes the whistle blow.
It presses.
Mostly on my heart.
What do I want?
What do You want from me?
Maybe wanting isn't important.

Just pull the lever for me.
If I do, I'll miss the Train.


Trains are dangerous anyway.

I can walk.

Please Prove You're Not a Robot

Every time I try to comment on someone's blog, I see:  "please prove you're not a robot" written above those crazy text boxes. Obviously, the chance to prove myself (even if it's of my own humanity) can never be passed up.

I put my hands to the keyboard, focus my attention, and type in the box; fairly certain of my reading capabilities:

Pu5tir 18

lurgBj 2

yarQiN 99

The unique collection of letters and numbers always surprises me. I feel so confident coming into this challenge because of my extensive background in the English alphabet and number system. But doubt never fails to creep into my brain before I submit the matching code sequence. Maybe it's because the symbols QWERTY and I enter in have absolutely no meaning to them. Or, if they do, it's in another language. Robot-Talk.

I don't let the language barrier stop me though.

With renewed assurance I submit the comment.




Fail.




Every. Single. Time.


Maybe I can't read.





Or perhaps I really am a robot.

Who Knew?

Fantasy occasionally turns reality.

Autumn is the perfect time for a bike ride.

The Children's Section

Sometimes

Sometimes...you turn 20 and are in a new decade. Sometimes this makes you feel like a real adult, with an adult life.

Sometimes you go for runs with grocery bags on your back but realize there is no ventilation and have a sweat imprint when you are done.

Or sometimes great big black dogs break out of their homemade cages on the porch and tackle you until their Asian owners run out of the house and wrangle them into the garage. Then you awkwardly apologize for knocking on their door... which stimulated the enormous hound. 

Sometimes children prank Sister Clark by putting earth worms all over her doorknob. And you try to teach them a lesson about being kind. But end up just laughing and going away.

Sometimes you get tired of helping people. But you know you shouldn't.

Sometimes your best friend is in love.

Sometimes thinking about your Dad makes you cry a bit because you love him.

And sometimes your pudding explodes on your clothes in the library. Or you accidentally laugh too hard at a LoR comment made in sacrament meeting. Or read the key signature wrong on the hymn and tell everyone in the congregation to give you a minute to compose yourself.

But sometimes....on a rare occasion...you have a crinkle.

That turns into a crush.

And you FINALLY,

sorta-kinda,

like somebody.

Could that date come any faster?

PLEASE

Hannah walks out of Wal-Mart with only a plunger.

Molly walks in. "It's OK. I've had to take the walk of shame too."

[234] days of Shelby

Have you ever been loved so much it hurt?

I hope he was right.


Just not about me.







Happy Birthday.

Boise

We got lost.

A 3 and a half hour drive turned into a 6 hour drive yesterday when we missed the junction at Tremonton and headed to Boise, Idaho.

Eventually we realized that we should be in Rexburg, yet were in Twin Falls.

Pathetic.

At least the drive was entertaining with 90s love songs and a couple Ritz crackers.

After moving in I borrowed the neighbors shower because we haven't yet purchased a shower curtain.

Exiting our apartment later that night I realize that during the excursion from the neighbors house to mine, my underwear had fallen out of my towel in the middle of the hallway.



What an excellent way to start the semester.

I Love to See the Temple

You Know The Church is True When....

...a little 8 year old neighbor girl gives every penny she owns to my sister to help pay for her mission.

On Wings of Faith

My sister left on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints today. Look out San Diego. Jenessa is gonna change the world.

Chick Fil A

Do you ever just 'get' someone? Like, they are a part of you and you them. That's how I feel about my red-headed friend. We've known each other since we were nine. Actually, preschool. He was a wanted man back then. Singing Kumbaya and dancing around the flag pole. We just didn't know each other existed till 4th grade. Sometimes, we would throw pancakes around like frisbees. Or have Star Craft parties. We helped each other in school and listened to great music on the couch. He was my best friend. Once, I was heart broken over my teenage love and my red-head came over at midnight, got me out of my closet, and held me while I cried. Lots of people thought we were in love. Well, at least they thought he was in love. In 6th grade on Valentines Day he bought me a bracelet from the A.L.L. store. It had some cheesy line saying "I Love You" or "Be Mine". I can't remember exactly, but I found out about it though before it was delivered. As an eleven year old....I was pretty much disgusted. He realized and never gave it to me. One time, we were on the bus together and I fell asleep on his shoulder. He was stroking my arm when I woke up and I was scared because he was my best friend. I didn't want my best friend to love me. When we were little sometimes he would confess he liked me. Little love notes. But I pretended it didn't happen. Once we weren't friends for a whole summer because I ignored him. When we got to Jr. High his voice dropped an octave and I made fun of him mercilessly. We found ways to do things together. Or, at least, he found ways to do things with me. He was kinda odd. Sometimes he would take off his shoes in class and put a red apple in one of them. Or sit under the desk. I could laugh so hard with him it hurt. He tried out for the play with me and helped me prepare my audition. He always told me how awesome I was. I was in love with some other boy though. Jr. High Romance.... But my red head always listened to my heart aches and made fun of my devious plots to catch this man. Every once in a while I remember that my red head might love me. Then I would run away. He used to be a terribly wretched singer. But he learned and joined choir with me. He gave me Ella to listen to. Sometimes he would text me song lyrics at 1:30am. Like "fly me to the moon". Of course, I'd finish:  "let me play among the stars". He was definitely an odd one. But I loved him, like a friend. Once he told me if we were gangsters-in-love our song would be "Mrs. Brown You've Got A Lovely Daughter". I listen to that song often. I accompanied him for his trumpet solo. We camped outside the school together and waited for the Chamber list to be posted. He was my first date. I wore a yellow dress. He was the only boy to bring me flowers on a date. Daisies. HUGE daisies. Red, and yellow, and orange. He helped me with Calculus. We studied for our AP Tests together. Sometimes we would vegetable boat race. He inspired me to paint. He recognized my talents. At Stake Dances he always wore a white suit coat. And we would always dance one slow song. Always. Our teachers watched us. One day after class they called us to the back of the class and basically had us tell them whether or not we loved each other. I scoffed. My red head said nothing. We discussed literature like "My Antonia". He was Jim. I was Antonia. After all, the moon gets its light from the sun. That's why I cried in class that day. It was him. I just didn't want anyone to know. I couldn't love my best friend.

Then he went away. I could feel it in my soul. He probably won't ever eat at Chick Fil A again. I saw his dad today. He was crying when I sang in church. Families Can Be Together Forever. "I thought you two would always get married" he said. Maybe we would have. I don't know. I just couldn't love my best friend. I suppose he couldn't love me either.

Back.

Tinkling the ivories never felt so good.

Summer Run

I was running my regular route. I picked some wildflowers, listened to some summer tunes, and felt the wind blowing through my hair as I passed hills and hills of potato fields as the sun set in the distance. About half way through the run I heard something. Like a little bell. I pulled out my headphones:

THE ICE CREAM TRUCK.

Summer is HERE! The Ice Cream Truck came out! YAY FOR SUMMER!

I used to have this dream to be an ice cream truck driver when I got old and had a sweet cotton top. I would sell ice cream to kids all day and make them so happy. But as I got older and told my dream to people...they...uh...enlightened me a bit.

"Shelby, why in the world would you be an Ice Cream Truck Driver? They are creepy. Or child molesters."

...

Talk about a shot through the heart.

As I kept running through Rexburg, I listened to the Ice Cream Truck and followed it, the little tune leading me along. I realized though....it was playing Christmas music. The Ice Cream Truck turned the corner, a white old car covered in yellow stickers that were ripping off and a 60 year old Asian man with a mustache driving along as "Jingle Bells" and "O Christmas Tree" rang through the streets.

The disappointment.

Maybe....
....maybe I don't want to be an Ice Cream Truck Driver.

Maybe.

DTR

 DTR. It's one of the BYU college terms like NCMO, or MC, or RM. The culture seems to be full of them. Once I came to college I suddenly had this crazy new lingo nobody quite understands. DTR is one of these terms. Officially, it stands for Define The Relationship. But, I think it should be Disastrous Train wReck. Or Deny The Reality. Something to that nature.... Anywho, they stink. I mean, how awkward is it when you sit down with a person of the opposite gender who you've known a week or two and discuss 'feelings'? Or the potentiality for 'feelings'? Also, something strange happened when I left high school. My whole life I was used to the girls being the dramatic ones who were ready to commit at the drop of a hat and would sacrifice anything for their COW (Crush of the Week. There's another BYU acronym...from EFY...ironically). But once college hit, everything turned upside down. The men became the emotional and dedicated ones and the women are just fickle and run away all the time. I'm not really sure what caused the change. Maybe it's because we are playing for keeps now. It's a Dangerously Touchy Realm. Seriously. SO MUCH PRESSURE. I feel like the instant I agree to a second date with a boy, we are in a relationship. Then when I get around to deciding whether or not I want to keep dating them, it's as if they confess their love and it's all or nothing. "Love me or leave me". Doesn't love take TIME? Ya. Oddly enough, that's a foreign idea here at BYU-I. So then their heart is on the line and it's completely my responsibility to decide what to do with it. It's not fair, really. Not fair.

3 DTR's in one day is disastrous to the soul.

Can someone make up my mind for me?

Much appreciated.

-Shelby.

President.

Someone once told me to become the president of my own artwork. So I did.

CHAMPION

Last night was my last Cross Country meet. We ran at Nature Park Golf Course at 11:00pm and followed a huge trail of glow-sticks. I was nervous. My shin splits are still on the mend and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to beat my time, or if I could somehow in this race prove to myself that I can do the unbeatable. I felt like it was my last chance. An ultimatum. I dunno what it was. But I really felt like I was going to puke from anxiety. I've struggled with my health my entire life. It's always been a challenge for me. I've had bitterness and resentment towards exercise and eating right because of the pressure I felt from society to be perfect. But hey, I was a ten year old girl. All ten year old girls are awkward and chubby. But it kinda stuck with me. I've never quite gotten over that mentality. Even though I wanted to do and be my best, it was so hard for me to lay aside my pride, to endure physical pain, to tell my mom she was right, to admit exercise was important and that I wasn't good at it. I'm not sure exactly why I'm writing about this because it's sort of lame and pretty personal. But, I am proud of myself. Not in a vain sort of way. But I accomplished something I hate. I was dedicated. I challenged myself. I lost sleep. I cried. I woke up early. I passed out. I iced my leg every night before bed. I woke up aching and sore almost every day. I ran in a hailstorm and in the beating sun. I sacrificed social life or school work sometimes. I committed myself to a team that was literally miles more advanced than I was.  And you know what? I pulled through. I conquered. I am a new woman. I CAN DO HARD THINGS. 

I have fought a good fight. 

I have finished my course.

I have kept the faith.

 

Oh, and...

Lady-like

Midnight 5K

I wish so bad I was here right now and not at school....

"Strangest Places To Read On Campus"

 

100$ proves itself enough motivation for me to enter a contest. But, I need your help. The prize goes to the person with the "Strangest Place to Read on Campus". My roommate Nichelle and I put together a few options. Let me know which one is your favorite!

VOTE for you favorite!

P.S. If you are a student at BYU-I PLEASE don't steal our ideas.  :) Pretty Please?