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Monday, July 30, 2012

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.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Back.

Tinkling the ivories never felt so good.

Friday, July 20, 2012

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.

Monday, July 16, 2012

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.