The Woes of Junior High School

I had a late night last night. I woke up early. Somehow I ended up with three and a half hours of sleep. I'm not the happiest/most alert I've ever been and I have somewhat of a pounding headache.
I had my Spanish final today and I am thrilled to say I have successfully completed Spanish 101. It is such a satisfying feeling completing a class so rigorous and intense as that. However, my good feelings about finishing such a course is not what I intend the subject of this post to be about. Instead, I wish to write about what occurred this morning just 30 minutes prior to taking this final exam.
My test was at 11:30. My cousin Megan and I went down to the basement of the JFSB to wait outside the testing room and get a little last minute studying in at 11:00 sharp. We walked down the stairs, rounded the corner and the halls seemed oddly crowded for a reading day and oddly noisy for a college campus. After a brief minute of concentrating on the sound and observing the faces in the crowd of people I was trying to push my way through, I was instantaneously transported back to my Junior High days. I was being swarmed by hundreds {slight exaggeration} of 12-15 year old kids. What was going on you may ask? Why, foreign language fair of course. I would like to know who had the brilliant idea to import hundreds of kids from Junior Highs all over the state of Utah to a college campus on a reading day, just hours before finals start. And even more perplexing is who agreed to have the JFSB host these children when every foreign language student at BYU is able to take their finals during the reading days. Clearly, there was some miscommunication somewhere along the line. Now, I support foreign language fairs. I just don't support them when I have only had 3 hours of sleep, a wicked bad headache, and my final exam in 3o minutes. Observing these Junior High kids got me thinking back to my very own Junior High days. And boy, am I glad to be out of them. I once read a weird time travel book and the main girl was trapped for life as a 13 year old; I think that would be my worst nightmare.
I think there is just one word to sum up the Junior High days: awkward. The first aspect to this awkwardness is the physical body. Your body is changing in ways that you don't want it to change. In order to cope with this change you're constantly tugging at your clothes in hopes that enough pulls will make the fabric form to your body correctly and look flattering. Unfortunately, this trick never worked. You've reached the point where you're too cool to have your mom do your hair, however, you still struggle at this task and going to school with a bad hair day is more common than finding a penny on the street. You try in a vain attempt to cover up your pimples and blemishes with the cheap makeup from the drug store, however, you're even worse at applying make up than you are at doing your hair. Talk about disaster.
I don't care who you are, you struggled with self-esteem in Junior High. You're coming into your own, trying to figure out who you are during the few brief years (that seem to go on forever) between childhood and teenage years/adulthood. As previously discussed, you're body isn't doing anything to help your self esteem. From my own experience and from observing other tweens that age, we all go through a bit of a moody time period. Although you're self-esteem is plummeting every time you step foot in the confines of the Junior High School, you for some strange reason think that you are cooler than every other human being that has ever graced this planet earth. Why is that?
And then there are the cliques. The idea of a clique first originates in Junior High, 7th grade to be exact, and one would think that after you graduate from the 9th grade and move on to better and bigger things (High School) that these so called cliques would disintegrate. Unfortunately, I've found they remain in tact far past the age of 14; in fact, I've learned that they are still very real even in college. Looking back into my memory, there are all varieties of cliques and stereotypes that come along with them. There are of course, the popular kids. These are the kids that somehow miraculously skipped the awkward stage. There are only about 3 of them per grade and they all bond together, wear matching clothes, do their hair and make up the same, and make life miserable for every other kid at the school. They know their hot and they flaunt it. Then there are the choir kids {That was me. I didn't actually do choir, but I hung out with all the kids who did, so I guess I was a wanna be choir kid. They accepted me, though} There were the drama kids, the jocks, the nerds, all the typical ones you always hear about. I think every Junior High School in the nation has the exact same kids and cliques, the names of the students are the only things that really vary from school to school. Don't get me wrong, it makes me sound like I hated Junior High and don't have one good memory from those three years of my life. I'll be honest, I hated 7th grade. I had such a good time in 8th grade. And I absolutely loved 9th grade. I thought I was on top of the world and had the time of my life while I was living in it. It's looking back on those years that I realize that while they were good learning experiences and for the most part I had a fun time living in them, I would rather repeat any other year of my life than those three years, from the ages of 12-15. They are just rough for every party involved.
Today as I was annoyed out of my mind with the foreign language fair kids treating the JFSB like it was just another hall in their Junior High I thanked my lucky stars that I was out of those years. Although I find much satisfaction and humor in watching other people feel awkward, it's not something I particularly enjoy feeling myself. I'd rather just watch awkwardness from the sidelines than experience it first hand. Thank goodness the only time I have to return to Centerville Junior High is when I cover for my mama and pick up my little brothers after a long and tiresome day of trying to fit in. Best of luck to any one in the midst of Junior High, my thoughts and prayers are with you.

I love picnics on the grass...

...and gorgeous weather

...and macbook photobooths

...and yummy food for the picnic

...and fun friends

i'm really gonna miss this

The Tale of an Easter Celebration

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter celebration. Mine was superb. The day began at 8:30 a.m. We rushed downstairs in anticipation of what the Easter Bunny had left us in our baskets. Somehow, the Easter Bunny knows me too well and knew that I would adore a new cardigan, a turquoise wallet, The Secret Life of Bees (the movie) and a gigantic stash of candy. I think the Easter Bunny loves me. After checking out our goodies, the egg hunt began. We (my brothers and I) were each allotted five hard-boiled, colored eggs to find. I started out on a bad note: I only had one egg while all the boys had an average of three. I realized I had to buckle down and get to work to find my eggs; there was no way I was going to come in last place. I must have had a huge adrenaline rush, because I miraculously pulled ahead and beat them all. Well, I think me and Ethan may have tied for first. What can I say, I'm pretty legit at Easter egg hunts. We then went to the front of the house where we each had 7 plastic eggs filled with money hidden from us. Naturally, my designated color of egg was pink. I got right to work looking for any sign of a pink plastic egg. I hate to brag about myself, but it's kind of necessary in order to tell the story in full: I was the first one to find all seven of my eggs. This weekend I discovered my hidden talent: Easter egg hunts. It's such a fun activity!

The Easter program at church was amazing, even though we had to go to church at a new building. I'm not sure who thought it was okay to make my ward change buildings. I had been going to the same church for 18 years and now I feel all out of wack at the new one. It's a good thing I have a testimony or I would maybe be offended to the point of not attending church anymore. Maybe someday I'll learn to love the new building, but for now I just really miss my old one; it was home to me. Anyways, the choir sang beautifully, and my very own father was the speaker for the program. As always, he did a wonderful job and his talk was very insightful and inspiring. It was kind of annoying trying to go home from church with him: everyone we passed stopped him to tell him how good of a talk he gave. I was pretty proud of him.

After church we had a delicious dinner with both sets of grandparents. Then, it was off to Provo for me. It was a beautiful Easter Sunday and I loved every second of it. Didn't you all love the weather yesterday? Today is beautiful as well and I think I'll wear a summer skirt to celebrate. I hope you all had an Easter as good as mine! Have a happy day!

It Was a Happy Day

Road Trip
(there and back in a day)

What do six students do when they need to escape happy valley? They take a road trip to St. George in one day. Typically, they would leave at 9:00 a.m., arrive at In-N-Out Burger at 1:00, visit a local park to eat their goodies, take a short, self-initiated tour around the St. George temple, and pile back into the car in order to return safely to Provo by 9:00 p.m. Why, yes, this is the story of me and my dear friends. Today, rather than going to our classes, we created a day-long spring break for ourselves and traveled to the lovely city of St. George and back.

It's plain and simple: I love In-N-Out. They provide quite possibly the most delicious burger in existence. Best news of the day is that an In-N-Out will soon be located in Draper, just 30 minutes north of Provo. Oh, happy day! I'll only have to drive half an hour to get my burger rather than four hours. This is too good to be true.

85 degrees with my burger in hand: Pure bliss.

Of course we asked for the complimentary hats. They add to the experience; it wouldn't be the same without them.

And we finished out the day visiting the stunningly beautiful St. George temple.

For those of you who want to make up for the spring break you didn't get, receive a break from the stress of upcoming finals, or just grab a fantastic burger, I highly recommend making a day trip to St. George. Just make sure the company is as good as mine was...it makes the eight hours in a confined car so enjoyable.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad...

Today I felt like Alexander. It was one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. Well, that's me being a little over-dramatic, but by no means was it a good day. There wasn't one major ghastly event that occurred, it was just so many little lousy things that took place, that when added up put me in a drab mood. It got me thinking though, and I think it's healthy to have days like these; a bad day is necessary every now and then to keep my emotions balanced. Plus, tomorrow when I have a really great day, I'm going to appreciate it so much more. For now though, I'm going to listen to James Taylor's Greatest Hits, drink away my sorrows in a bottle of apple juice, watch The Notebook, and eat a s'mores pop tart. Tomorrow is a new day and it's going to be a good one. Today, however, is not and I'm going to enjoy every minute of my bad day.

Oh! How I Love Them

This weekend I went home to Centerville. I got to spend oodles of time with "the little boys": code name for my younger brothers. The time spent with them reminded me how much I love their faces.

Looks like Pressy Boy loves me too.

We hit up Cold Stone inbetween sessions and enjoyed a treat so deliciously loaded with calories.

Props to Alex for the photography skills.
Why do I love them so much? They think I'm funny and will quote stupid movie lines with me. And laugh about them.

Clearly, the Centerville North Stake is pretty talented. On Friday night I went to our Stake play in which Ethan and Preston were stars in. They sang, danced, and acted brilliantly in a couple scenes from the musical Oliver. Look at those stellar pick pockets!

Oh, I love them dearly.

The Dangers of the Library

It's taken me 7 months to finally figure it out: the library is a dangerous place for a single lady to go to alone. I've had experiences over the months that have led up to this conclusion, but today my thoughts were confirmed. Although it would be impossible to express the seriousness of the matter merely by telling stories, it's the best way I can think of to warn all fellow female BYU students to avoid the library like the plague.

From day one of my college experience I have studied on the fifth floor. I go there almost everyday; I guess you could say I'm a regular. I've made friends with fellow fifth floor regulars, so much so that we utter a brief 'hello' when we pass each other on campus through out the day. Our friendships have extended past the confines of the library, which in my opinion shows the potential for a lifelong friendship. Long story short, I'm comfortable on the fifth. It's kind of like home to me. Today I came to the harsh realization that the fifth has become a danger zone and I'm going to have to move base and find another sanctuary. It pains me.

There have been several experiences that have influenced my decision to change floors, however two of them have been so dramatic and I feel it is my duty to share them, in an attempt to warn other chicas of the crisis they may find themselves in if they venture to the fifth floor alone.

Experience #1: A typical Monday night, approximately 6:30 p.m. I was minding my own business, doing a little studying with my cousin sitting across the table from me. Next thing I know some chum has appeared out of no where and pulled up a chair next to me. He then proceeds to interrogate me on different characteristics and qualities I like in guys. (i.e. Do you like them to be smart or athletic? Doctor or Salesman? RM? etc.) After about ten questions I figured he was just doing a survey for a class or something of the sort. Oh no, I was very wrong. After I completed his verbal questionnaire he got a look on his face resembling the look a four year old little boy gets when his mom gives him a Popsicle. He then informed me that I answered all the questions exactly right and the description of my "perfect man" was a direct depiction of his brother. Was this guy really setting me up with his brother? I figured I could escape the situation and avoid a date somewhat easily by ignoring facebook messages I was promised I would receive in the near future. I was a little nervous to visit the library for the next week and for good reason. I ran into this kid three more times in five days. I finally had to break the news to him that I was flattered, however not interested.

Experience #2: Last week I was sitting on the same table on the same floor (that table has something against me) and someone came and sat on the same table as me, which is completely socially acceptable. It was when he passed me a note that I had a little problem with him. I thought I was out of that junior high phase of note passing. It was something that I never wanted to return to and I was forced into it against my will. Here is what the note said:
Him: Hey! I don't mean to intrude, but I see you up here on the fifth a lot studying, I haven't seen you in a while though. What are you studying?
Me: Physical Science...it's the death of me.
Him: Wow! Physical Science, that must mean you're super smart! I'm still trying to figure out what my passion is. What's your name by the way?
Me: Not that smart, just trying to get a GE out of the way. Stacie.
Sidenote: Keep in mind the poor kid is maybe 3 inches taller than me and about as fat as my thigh.
By this point I looked at the clock and saw that it was 2:50. Perfect timing to pack up my bag to get to a class. I'm not a skilled liar at all, but I went over it in my head and decided to give faking a class a shot. I stood up to leave, he was flustered and began writing on the note faster in order to hand it to me before I left. Weird. I briefly mentioned that I had to go to class, he stood up and said that he would walk me to class. Problem: I hadn't planned that far and wasn't sure what I was going to do regarding the location and room number of this so called class I lied about. He walked me down three flights of stairs and we had an indescribably awkward conversation. Luckily I ran into someone I knew on the third floor and was able to smoothly escape any further interaction with this kid.
Now we come to today. I was with my brother Alex and his friend Dan; we ventured up to the fifth just like every other day we study together. As we reached the top of the stairs I looked through the large glass doors and spotted my note-passing friend. I was nervous for a second and then remembered that I was with two guys and so wrongly assumed that I would be safe. We ended up sitting at a table a couple over and diagonal from him; I was sitting next to Dan and Alex was across the table from me. Alex already knew the history, so I quickly recounted the story to Dan and pleaded with him to pretend we were dating if this guy for some reason came over. He agreed only on the terms that I would set him up with a cute girl I know. It took me about .07 seconds to take him up on this offer. It was a very unproductive study session: every time note boy would look over at our table Dan and Alex were the first to notice and pull out all sorts of humorous jokes. At one point Dan left to print a paper out; I promise you that 3 seconds later my friend was out of his chair and kneeling at the side of my table. The first thing he said was a very enthusiastic "Hi!" perfectly paired with a high five. For those of you who don't know me well, I am so not into high fivers. I think they are unnecessary unless you have just won a competition. High fives as a greeting though? I think they were only acceptable through the elementary and junior high school years. In fact, if I remember correctly they were quite popular amongst the majority of kids in the 8th and 9th grades. The high five is completely unacceptable once you hit college. I almost refused to conform to his 8th grade gesture but when his hand remained high in the air for a good ten seconds I could see that he wasn't going to give up and eventually gave in and slapped his hand. He asked me a few questions and I gave the shortest responses and then he ended the convo by saying, "Well, in continuation of last week..." and proceeded to hand me a note. It took all I had to not bust up laughing. Then I looked at Alex and lost it. We did our very best to keep it subdued but there is a chance we failed miserably. The note said, "Hey! I realized that I did a less than stellar job of breaking the ice last week. How is everything going? Sorry about the note passing..." My thoughts: First, yes, you did do less than a stellar job, at least you can admit it. Second, clearly you're not sorry about the note passing because you continue to do it. Also, did he expect me to write back and walk 20 feet to deliver it. Fat chance of that happening. Just then, Dan comes back and I informed him what happened, that he failed me and the chances of me lining him up with someone were slim to none. He and Alex spent a good five minutes analyzing the situation and this guys tactics which caused me to erupt with laughter. After they had their fun, we glanced over and saw the high fiver packing up his bag to leave. Alex made the brilliant suggestion that Dan and I give the appearance of a boyfriend/girlfriend situation and I readily agreed in high hopes that he would see and get the hint that I'm so not interested. Dan and I scooted our chairs closer together, he casually put his arm around me and in order to look natural about it I started reading my hepe chapter to him. To make the situation more awkward than it already was, I randomly started reading the section about steroids and the side effects that come from the drug. Of course we started laughing and I'm sure it was very apparent that our "relationship" was completely staged. As my buddy was walking out I saw him looking at us with an appalled expression on his face. I hope it was a nice way of giving him the hint.

This experience was the last straw. The fifth floor is not for me anymore. It's quite sad because I've become very comfortable up there. Maybe I'll still visit it and just sit in a cubby rather than the open table.

So my friends, the moral of this story is that if you want a date from a creeper or just a good story to tell, go to the fifth. You're bound to get one.