Brittany Elizabeth

I’ve been accepted into the Governor’s Honor Academy

I am so excited! I have been accepted into the Governor’s Honor Academy held on the SUU Campus this summer.  I get the opportunity to begin my college education by learning skills and meeting people that will help me be successful in everything I do.  Best of all, I get a 4 year scholarship to SUU!!! How great is that.  The only problem is I have to come up with the money to pay for the Academy.

As part of the program I am supposed to go out and find individuals and businesses who will help to sponsor me so that I can attend.  The cost is only $900 for the 10 day academy and at first I thought that should be a piece of cake to raise.  Now that I have been fundraising for over a month I am finding that its not that easy.  I still have over $500 to raise and time is running out.  My dad suggested that I make it easier for everyone to donate and so he has set up a fundraising account through PayPal to help me collect the money that I need.

So here comes the plea.  Ready……PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, I need anything that you might be willing to donate to help me attend the Academy.  I am so excited to be able to go.  Please everyone help me to go.

If you can donate even a few dollars I would really appreciate it.  You can donate by clicking on the donate button below.  If you want more information about the Academy you can visit the Governor’s Honor Academy website or email me.

No… I am not boy crazy……. okay, maybe I am.

All I can say, is I am the luckiest girl alive. No, seriously. Every girl is jealous of me, whether they know it or not. And if you aren’t jealous?? You should be. (;

Haha!….. Nah, I don’t want to sound boastful. Only one person I know of is jealous, but hopefully it’ll wear off.

So anyway, why am I the luckiest girl alive? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because once upon a time, there was this idea in God’s mind to create this wonderful thing called man. (Okay, so man came first, then woman… but just work with me here, okay?) And man was nice to me and treated me like a princess.

I don’t know what it is, but I just make friends easier with boys than I do girls. And honestly? I’d rather have a million boy friends than a million girl friends… girls are just so dramatic and difficult to handle. But, even though I have an easier time making friends with boys, they are the more difficult to come by— and at the same time— more difficult to have sincere friendships with. Maybe it’s because they expect more than girls? I have no idea. Don’t ask me to understand the male mind. I’m already up to my ears in complex-ness with AP Chem and I don’t need any more. (:

SOOO…. back to the original equation: I am the luckiest person on the planet. Not only do I have the spirit with me every day to guide me to those who pray for help in their life, but my best friends are some of the most loveliest boys on this Earth.

I’d rather not name names publicly, but I can describe them… (: One, who I hold close and dear to my heart, moved 600 miles away. Though an extremely depressing separation for all of my friends, we still push forward with our lives. The most kind and loving young man ever, this boy holds fast to the Iron Rod, always striving to do what the Lord asks of him. Having the voice of an angel, he shares his spirit through the light in his eyes and his soul radiates to others. And you can’t help but smile when you see him. (Smiling either out of joy or sheer amusement at his crazy disposition.)………. The other boy, an extremely talented individual who makes you want to be a better person by sharing his talents. Singing, dancing, acting, playing a gorgeous piano piece, and just being there with a smile. Constantly striving to do what is best, he always looks out for the feelings of others… never wanting to hurt anyone or make anyone sad. Both of these boys are just the beginning of a long list of people who warm my heart just to be around them.

One of the things that the modern women of this world do is try to portray men as being stupid, immovable, headstrong, inferior creatures that deserve to be dominated. I disagree with every fibre of my being. I think that men are a divinely inspired race, with potential to become the greatest soul (along with his sweetheart) in the universe. I would gladly step down for any man who treated me like a princess. I would walk a thousand miles across a stormy sea if my future true love asked me to. And I will stand by any decision that my husband-to-be and I make together. Life is a road meant to be traveled with someone…. and not just any someone: a person that Heavenly Father intended you to be with.

Why am I boy crazy? Because there are so many boys out there that have the qualities of that someone who God wants me to be with. I just can’t wait until I find the one with ALL of the qualities I need. I look forward to the day when I begin my eternity.

For now, I just watch helplessly from the sidelines with “#1 FAN” sign for about a hundred boys. (Though I hold it a little higher for a select few.) Just remember, if you want to stay on the field, you have to meet the requirements. I won’t settle for anything less than what God tells me I deserve.

Robo and Bobo the Hobos

There are only three times when I get the chills: First, when I feel the Spirit; Second, when someone breathes on or touches the back of my neck; and Third, when I hear a powerful and/or moving song. Tonight, I experienced the third reason multiple times.

So, once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Shawnae in a musical called Hairspray. Then there was this girl named Brittany that wanted to go see her in this play at a professional theater. So, she got in her car, and picked up her most lovely friend: Erika. Together, they laughed while they drove for half an hour to get to said place.

Anyway, so Rika and I went to go see Hairspray. We were so giddy and happy about seeing the show that we could hardly contain ourselves in the car. We parked at the theater and began our ascent to the doors…. only to discover signs taped all over stating: TICKETS FOR HAIRSPRAY ARE SOLD OUT FOR TONIGHT. YOU MAY PICK UP TICKETS FOR SATURDAY AND MONDAY. Our hearts sunk like a dead mermaid. We slowly walked up to the ticket booth and asked if there was any way we could buy two tickets for tonight’s show. The lady behind the glass shook her head and muttered, “No.”

“Well,” I said, “What about two seats that are far apart from each other, they don’t need to be close…?” Again another no. So we asked if we could stay and buy someone else’s tickets if they didn’t show up to claim them. The lady behind the glass said, “Maybe. But there are two people before you that are also asking for tickets. It’s going to get pretty busy tonight, so please stay out of the way.” So Rika and I walked solemnly toward the other end of the ticket room to sit on the ground. Our hopes and excitement deflated: we looked utterly helpless as we waited for the show to start in a whole hour.

Hundreds of people came through, claiming will-call tickets, handing them to the ticket man and walking happily into the show. Occasionally, someone would offer an extra ticket to a stander-by. We watched multiple times as seats were being passed to people who came here after us. Since our hopes had been smashed several hundreds of times, we decided that we were going to wallow and wait for the end of people to come. We considered taking a hobo’s cardboard and sharpie and writing upon it: “WILL BUY EXTRA TICKETS. PLEASE HELP US.” And thus, we earned the names Robo and Bobo the Hobos. (Rika and Brittany ) After about an hour, we decided to put forth the effort in asking people if they had extra tickets they wanted to sell. Unfortunately, no one had any or was willing to sell them. When the play had started and had been running for half an hour, we decided to give up our search. We gathered our things and started to consider leaving for home when the lady behind the glass motioned to us with her pointer finger. We walked in depression to the counter where, to our much surprise and amazement, the lady slid us two tickets under the half-circle hole. Rika and I were speechless, and then when we regained some of our senses asked if we should pay for them. The kind woman told us no, and that the tickets were front row seats. Through tears of happiness, we kindly thanked her and nearly flew to the theater doors. Sure enough, two front row seats lay open waiting for someone to fill them and watch the performance. And oh, what a performance it was…

Needless to say, the angels looked over us tonight. I suppose God wanted us to see this production of Hairspray. Who knows? But I made so many memories, got closer to a friend, sang songs of pity and begging for tickets, became a hobo, and laughed till I almost peed. It was a WONDERFUL night. Thanks Rika!!!

My identity.

My name is Brittany Hanks. No one can duplicate me. No one can replace me. And certainly no one can tell me that I can’t do something. I will work until I achieve my goals, and even if it means sacrificing my sanity, my life, and previous habits; I will succeed.

Many people can put me down, I will just stand back up, brush myself off, and keep pushing forward. Many people may call me immature, I will just tell them that I am more mature than they are, just because of that comment. Sure, I enjoy having a little fun, playing, and joking around a bit, but everyone should to have a healthy lifestyle. If everyone was bored stiff, stuck in a world of: “I must appear to the world as an older being”, there would be no creativity, no laughter, and no life, essentially. But in the long run, though I may have the look like and the voice of someone several years younger than me, it doesn’t matter: because I think, act, and feel like someone eternities old. Is it weird for someone my age? Of course. But should I complain that I have a more “mature” look about life than most people my age? Certainly not.

Life if full of things that are not fair. We have been told from a young age that life is not fair. Everything happens for a reason. Though it sounds so cliche, it is true. Heavenly Father has a plan for all of us, and there is a reason for everything that He lets happen to us. Though we may think we know the reason why He lets something happen to us, most of the time, we do not. We assume we can see the outcome of a certain situation, but I can tell you from experience that we cannot. Life is horrid to us, and it is meant to be.

…but at the same time, life is so wonderful and beautiful to us, that how dare we complain? How can we sit and wallow in self-pity when God has given us everything we have? Our possessions, our talents, our beauty, our life, our creativity, our sense of well being, and our happiness day-by-day.

I mostly write this to convince myself, but if there is anyone who cares, anyone who listens, take my advice: read what I have written. I may not be the best of writers, in fact, I know I am not, but take what you can from it into your heart. Mix it with your own life and drink the blessings God has given you.

I cannot tell you how utterly helpless I feel: I have had moment after moment where I have been discouraged over the past couple of days. It hurts. Believe me, it hurts like a hot frying pan hitting you over the head. : ) But, though I may never again get the opportunity that I hoped and dreamed for, I know in the long run that I will be justified. I will have a moment, or an experience that exceeds my expectations, and I will triumph over the past. Through tears and a low time in life, I succeed. I push on toward the future, and I will have conquest.

I will not let life drag me down.

HOORAY for good times!

Bleghh… school started. Hoo….rah… That is how excited I am for it.

So once upon a time there was a girl named Brittany, who thought it would be amusing to dig herself into a hole as deep as AP Chemistry and Math homework, and as deep as the commitment to three different drama classes. Whilst digging said hole, she began to fear that the hole was too deep, and that she might not be able to get out. But, rounding the corner on the 5th day of school, she realizes it’s not as bad as it seems. Sure, the hole is still too deep for any human being to climb out of, but thankfully, Brittany has a smart brain and carved climbing holes into the dirt so that she could escape. And hooray, HOORAY! Life is GOOD!

I am super excited, because I found out something: if you do the logical thing and take regular chemistry first, and then AP, life is so much easier. Last year was just…. well… a mess. I attempted to take AP chem before having any experience with chemistry at all. Yeah, it was a bad idea. But since I switched into regular chem last year, I am acing AP this time. I have high hopes for this year, and I just think I’m going to achieve them.

Another reason why life is almost perfect right now, is because auditions for Blithe Spirit are on TUESDAY! Hooray!!! I cannot even make you fathom a hundredth part of the excitement that is bursting inside of me now. I ache to be up onstage with people applauding up a storm. The play we are doing this year is so perfect for us. It is of the utmost hilariousness. I really really REALLY want the part of Elvira. The former wife-now-ghost figure of Charles. She has such a character! Every single one of her lines is so funny, that I wonder how I don’t die because I’m laughing so hard. Though half of her lines are innuendos, they are the kind that only some could understand. (The older some.) I’ll tell you what, I am going to work my hardest at the audition to get that part. I will prove to Ms Morrey that I am capable of holding such a large part. I want that part SO bad!!

And another reason to hooray! I got a job!!!…………..go on…… say it…… HOORAY!!!!!! I love my job. I love the people I work with, and I love the thought of my FIRST PAY CHECK that comes very soon. Nearly $300.00!! I get to pay for Shakespeare first, and then it’s decided that I’m going to reward myself for all the hard work (this first paycheck) and BLOW the last $100. I love life.

The joys of Italian food and people.

“Most people die and go to heaven. Brittany dies and goes to Italy.” -Dad

There lies a perfect plate of food. Spinach tortellini smothered in creamy alfredo sauce, tied together with strings of melted parmesan cheese. Yum.

Man, I wish I was a food critic. But not just any food critic, one that eats ONLY Italian food. I could always eat nothing but spaghetti, salad and gelato. So, the story goes, once upon a time, there was a girl named Brittany and she went to the Old Spaghetti Factory in Orem. I was a bit reluctant about eating out, I don’t like people spending their money on me, and it had just previously happened: my mom bought me a new dress. But, as downright cranky as I was, it was a girls’ night out, so I put on a grin and bore it. And boy, did I bear it.

I’m a picky eater when it comes to Italian. If it’s not good, it’s not worth eating. There are two things that I could eat every day and not get sick of; strawberries and the steak-Gorgonzola Alfredo from Olive Garden. I have now discovered a third thing that I cannot live without. Spinach tortellini.  Choosing my dish at the Spaghetti Factory was not hard. I picked the cheapest thing there, (well, the cheapest that sounded good) and expected to just be eating something as nice as a Sunday dinner. Double you, arr, oh, en, gee. Since I have not tasted heaven as of yet, this was as close as I have come. This was the most satisfied that I have been with food since Olive Garden. Green tortellini filled with meat, cheese and spinach sat in a HUGE pile on my plate. Carefully drizzled over them was a wonderful cream-Alfredo sauce, and topped over the whole thing was melted parmesan. The parmesan created strings of goodness in between each bite and the piping-hot noodles were…….. no comment.

Anyway, after a divine dinner, what could only come next is dessert. So, I officially decided that American Ice Cream is poop. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for the American way. I’m as patriotic as anyone you’ve ever seen, but when it comes to frozen treats, Roxberry and Italian gelato are the way to go. Apparently, dessert came included in the meal price, so I took it without question. I was a bit nervous though, when they brought me my gelato. Kind of like American Neapolitan ice cream, gelato contains chocolate, pistachio and cherry ice cream. Though a beautiful blend of brown, pink and green, I don’t even like 2 of the flavors on ice cream. Haha, I do now. It was so cold, that it had frozen to the sides of the metal tin that it was served in. Then, since the bowl was so cold, it had transferred the cold back into the gelato, and the whole thing had frozen into small ice crystals. There is nothing better than rich, soft, gelato.

After we ate dinner and that heavenly ice cream, we saw “Letters to Juliet” at the local (cheap) theater. It was such a good movie, and though full of cheese at the end, it was definitely a heart-breaker. The whole thing is set in Italy, and it just reminded me that I want to go there SO BAD. It is so beautiful there, and it has the BEST food. Italy has such heritage and history. So, with my new job, I’m going to save up for a car, going to college and maybe GOING TO ITALY.

I didn’t ask for this.

I know that everyone goes through trials. Some, bigger than others. Some, more significant or meaningful than others. And some, more difficult and harder to comprehend than others.

Mine don’t make sense to me.

I mean, obviously, they’re significant. They’re meant to be there for me to learn things, I get it. But I don’t get why I have to learn these types of skills this way. Everyone gets along with their families most of the time, right? Despite sibling quarrels and “misunderstandings” with your parents, you’re still bound by an eternal love for each and every member. So, of course, I am too. You know, I often look at other families, usually noticing them in their good times, wondering, “What if she was my mom? What if I had a brother like him?” And then I step back and realize time and time again: God put me with this family for a reason. He knows that I wouldn’t function the way I do today without the proper back-up of a wonderful family. So if we’re meant to be together forever, then why do we have problems? I sort of feel like an idiot asking that, because I already know the all-too-obvious answer: because no family is perfect and we have to go through the hard times to realize the good ones. And I get that, I really do. But I suppose the point I’m trying to figure out is why can’t I be the one that gets along with everyone in my family? Why am I the hot-headed, “get off my Trojan horse”, one? Well, not to everyone, but to my mom in particular.

I love my mom. I don’t think she knows how much I love her–because I’m too proud to get off my Trojan horse and tell her–but I really do love my mom. And I don’t think she realizes how much she does for everyone in the family, especially for me. I’m not the perfect child everyone assumes that I am. I’ve had my fair share of mistakes, a lot of them bigger than anyone could really expect from me. But here I am, who I am, today, because of my mom. When I needed to get it all off my chest, when I needed to cry, when I needed to start that hard process of repentance, I would go to my mom and ask, “Mom? Can we talk?” She’d look at me and say in a perfectly calm voice, “Sure honey. Go sit on my bed and I’ll be there in a second.” I don’t think anyone can really appreciate the love and devotion a mother has for them, until she drops everything they’re doing so she can talk with you.

If I love my mom so much, then how come I can’t get along with her? I absolutely can say that it’s my fault. I’m too proud to say sorry when I mouth-off. I’m too sensitive to admit nicely that I’m wrong. And I’m too impatient to explain when I’m being misunderstood, or taken wrong. I feel absolutely horrid when I talk to my mom that way, and never in my life did I think that she’d “accept” that kind of attitude. (Well, sometimes she doesn’t. And that’s when I realize that I’ve gone too far.) Then, I feel horrid because I’ve treated my mom like that. Then… I think, “Well aren’t all mother-daughter relationships supposed to be like this? Constant disagreement and fighting, but in the midst of it, sincere love?” I settle on that statement for a while, and then think to myself, How can I ever hope to have a perfect, non-quarreling, always helping and loving relationship with my future daughters if I can’t even agree with my own mother?

You might be thinking, well why don’t you tell your mother all of this? Why don’t you get off this computer and go tell her, right now.

Because I’m scared. I don’t know if I can ever have that awesome relationship that I used to have with my mother. I used to make her laugh, all the time. It made me happy when I made her laugh. I sort of felt like that was the only thing I was good at, was making her laugh. My sister can make my mom happy by cleaning the entire house to boot. But let’s face it: I’ve never had, nor ever will have the patience to clean to make someone happy. I’ll clean when it’s dirty. The end. But I don’t share many things in common with my mom. So it’s not like I can go out and do stuff with her, because there’s really nothing to do. So I just continue to make her laugh.

And how can I politely tell my mom that something about her is bugging me? I’ve resorted to just not saying anything at all, because I hate hurting people’s feelings. So that leaves me with two other choices, saying it bluntly–which sometimes has worked, when I or my family has put a joke into it– or sitting down with her and discussing something. But she’s my mother. I can’t just say, “Mom, you’re bugging me, will you please knock it off?” I mean, not exactly those words, but you know what I mean. I’m so scared of hurting someone, making them feel bad for a short time, or even to the extent of leaving. So I just bite my tongue and bear it. But slowly, we are growing more and more opposite, less and less alike, and it’s tearing us apart. I didn’t ask for this.

Adventures in Snipe Hunting

I’ve decided to share this little tale, only because it is amusing to me and to the girls that came to girls’ camp this week. So every year, we take the first years snipe hunting. We convince the girls that snipes are like little pot guts with razor sharp teeth and claws. Our ultimate goal is to capture a snipe, and the only way to protect yourself from their venomous and painful bites, is to put toothpaste all over your face. The strong smell of minty toothpaste repels the snipes and makes it so they won’t bite you, (it also stings really bad when you smear it on your face). My first year of girls’ camp, I was so excited to catch a snipe for the first time! Unfortunately, that was not the case. The younger girls weren’t allowed to catch the snipes, they could just watch while the older girls caught them. I was so mad. But nonetheless, I journeyed through the pitch black night with a minty, burning face and a tummy full of butterflies. My favorite young woman, Brynne, let the hunt. She grabbed her pillowcase, and then after wading through waist-high weeds, she scooped up a snipe from the ground like a professional. I was shocked at her next comment, “Do you want to touch it?” Thousands of thoughts flooded my head. “Uhh, sure?” Then before I knew it, she was opening the pillowcase! I hesitantly put my head closer to the opening where the snipe lay. Then suddenly, without warning, she lunged at me!! I thought for sure that the snipe was going to jump out and tear my head off. I screamed so loud that it scared the girls beside me. We all joined in a huge blood-curdling scream, and next to me, the older girls were laughing! I could have hit ‘em! Why were they laughing when me and my friends almost died by venomous teeth sinking into our skin?! Then the truth came out: SNIPES DON’T EXIST. Well SHOOT, now I feel like an idiot!!

So anyway, that’s been the tradition for FOREVER. The older girls take the younger ones snipe hunting, scare the pants off of them, and then reveal to the terrified 12-year-olds that they’ve been pranked. It’s awesome.

Well, the main point I was trying to come to was the adventures that I’ve had in snipe hunting. You see, this was my first year that I was going to be able to lead the snipe hunt, and actually catch the snipe. I asked Taylor, a girl older than me to bring up the rear on the hunt, and to throw small rocks into the bushes in front of us (so they’d move and give the illusion of something in the bush).

So we set on our hunt. Flashlights off, and faces burning with toothpaste. I had my pillowcase in hand as we walked in the pitch black night. Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. Well, sort of brilliant. I thought, “What’s the fun in scooping up the snipe? Wouldn’t it be more heart-pounding for the girls and fun for me if I tackled the snipe?” GENIUS. So, as we trudged through the bushes and weeds, I spotted a perfect spot in front of me. The bushes were really tall, and I thought I’d just leap into the bushes and come back up with a pillowcase enclosing a snipe! (really it was just a t-shirt that I had previously rolled up) So, I shushed the girls, and told them that we had found our snipe. I told them to stay back as I crept up to the bush. Then, I crouched down and held my pillowcase up, I jumped into the tangle of bushes. But, to my utter and horrific surprise, the bushes concealed a small cliff about 1-2 feet. I fell in a crouched position, only to land my knees on some hard, sharp rocks. A shockwave went through my leg and instantly, I felt a lot of pain. The strangled cries behind me of, “Brittany? Did you catch it?” “Are you okay?” “Did the snipe get you?”. I immediately let out an “Umm, guys? I need help.” Taylor looked at me from above. “Are you okay?” I responded, “No. I fell on my knees and it really hurts.” Purely on adrenaline, I shakily got to my feet and almost immediately fell over. I couldn’t even stand up! The girls went into, ‘emergency mode’ and picked me up from the ground. As I was being carried back to camp, we started laughing and joking about how funny I looked. Sure, it may have looked hilarious, but at the moment, my right knee hurt so bad that I couldn’t even bend it.

When we got back to camp, I was sat on the table while my first-aid certified, coolest life-guard on the planet lifted up my pant-leg. The girls around me yelled audible, “Ohhhh’s” and “Ewww’s” as my knee was revealed. There was blood coming all out of a puncture wound and a rug-burn looking scrape. But that’s not what hurt. It felt as though someone had grabbed my knee cap and twisted it. O-U-C-H.

After my life-guard Jourdan cleaned my wound and taped a gauze pad onto it, I went to bed. The next morning, my knee was so stiff that I couldn’t even bend it. We cleaned up camp, and I hobbled around like a lame duck. When we got home, I took the bandage off. The nasty looking wound was still bleeding and my knee had now bloomed into a beautiful bruise. Purple, red and speckled, it formed a C around part of my knee. Numerous bruises scattered around it, and it was clearly swollen. It was so pretty.

Well, now that I’ve described that tale to seem like I just escaped death, I’ll tell you that my knee is healing nicely. Hobbling around isn’t fun, especially when my knee remains un-bendable. The bruise is going away, except for that C shape. The bleeding has stopped and it just looks like a healing, disgusting wound. All in all, it was a good adventure. Taylor said I’ll go down into the Snipe Hunting Hall of Fame.

Boredom and Forgetfulness

As mentioned in past posts, you can pretty much say that I am bored. To tears? Yes. To insanity? Possibly. To death? Not quite there yet.

Mom is mostly out and about, doing school and trying to teach impatient children piano, leaving me at home to babysit. I don’t mind much, except for the fact that there is nothing to do. I try to play with my siblings, but it doesn’t always work. They get obnoxious easily, and I get bored easily. (I think I may have the attention span of a first grader?) Anyway, so most of the time, I try to entertain myself. I found Mythbusters on Netflix, and so I added all 6 seasons plus a “Bonus Blasters” season compiling of the team’s biggest booms. I think I may have watched somewhere around 30 episodes so far? I also eat toast. Toast is the food of the Gods. Grandma Sycamore’s white bread with real salted butter… mmm….. I think I will eat some tomorrow for breakfast.

So, besides wasting my life on the floor in front of our TV, and repeatedly attempting to ignore my mother’s voice chanting “Brittany… bread makes your butt fat…”, I have hung out with the best people on the planet a few times, went to youth conference, packed for girl’s camp and am sitting here typing this pitiful tale. I am now at the height of boredom. That’s right, the “up to here”, last straw, end of my nerve board-um. What is with this summer?

And speaking of girl’s camp, what happens when you pack? Well for a girl, this means a lot of things. First, you need clothes, that’s kind of essential. For me, it’s pretty easy to find clothes. I have one pair of jeans that I’ll always take camping, throw in a few t-shirts, grab my sweats for sleeping and some socks and voilà. I can now clothe myself. But then comes the difficult part. You see, my pride and glory (sort of) is my hair. I’m not as vain about it as some people, but even at camp with a bunch of sweaty gross girls, I’d still like to have decent looking hair. So, into the duffel bag goes the brush and a couple of hair bands, hoping and praying that I don’t achieve some dramatic disaster such as falling into mud or some horrendous feat such as that. I throw in a toothbrush and some really strong mint toothpaste (for snipe hunting! muahaha!!) and deodorant. (So I don’t smell bad like the beehives do! bleghh.) Then, I stuff my secret sister gifts in the bag along with my “spoiling treats” for my girls. (Which by the way, is an epic failure, I’m pretty sure the other YCL’s girls are going to be much more spoiled… oh well, it’s the thought that counts?) Then, I gently place in my worn journal and my scriptures, along with a pen and pencil. This should be it, right? WRONG. I have to find a sleeping bag, grab a pillow and then that’s it…………. I think……….. gahhh. I give up. I’m sure to forget something really important, and then I’ll receive a tsk tsk from my disappointed leaders.

So you may be thinking, “Why don’t you just pack earlier? Then you’ll have time to remember things that you’ve forgotten? Well, I’ve tried that. And when I did, I packed pretty much my whole bedroom and then some. It’s a difficult task…. So, solution? Pack later?? No, because then the chances increase that I’ll forget something REALLY important.

Well, let’s just say that girl’s camp is Tuesday. We have to have all of our equipment in by tomorrow so it can be loaded onto the trailer. The horrible thing is that I haven’t even finished packing yet… oops. I better do that, huh? Want to know another sad thing? Too bad cuz you’re gonna hear it: I have summer school during camp. Wonderful, huh? Yeah, I have to leave with a leader, come down the mountain from clear up past Heber, come home and sleep, wake up the next morning to go to school from 10am-2pm, then drive back up the mountain in time for dinner and singing in the trees. Then at camp I get to do homework for the two days of school that I’m skipping so I can spend the remainder of my time at camp. The things I sacrifice for my religion *sighhh*  Don’t worry though, its totally worth it.

What happens now?

Pretty much, I’m horrible at keeping up with this blog. Oh well, whatever.

So… what happens now? Summer is turning out to be potentially the most boring thing that ever happened to me. I’d rather be in school right now. No, seriously…. but I guess I get my wish granted? Because I start summer school next week. Bleghh… I wish that I could rewind my life and relive the past several months. No, I would not change anything, I’d just relive it. Life has been so good to me, that I just want to get some more of it. But, as always, things have to change. People change and things change… life changes in huge ways and in the smallest ways that we can’t even recognize.

Speaking of people changing, youth conference was phenomenal. I would go back and do it all over again. Every day, we’d watch vignettes, little monologues done by some of the Church’s most famous actors. Inspirational to the maximum, I watched every scene with intent and realization. I could apply everything to my life, past, present and future, and I waited impatiently for the next one. I wish everyone could have seen and felt what I did….. We also played lots of games at youth conference. Haha, my least favorite one was the “lost sheep” game. They spread over 1000 easter eggs across a huge field. Inside 20 of them were little pieces of paper with a sheep on them. We could go out one team member at a time to get ONE egg to bring back to our team. It was highly obnoxious and I seriously gave up after the first one. : )

And… speaking of things changing, what do you do when your best friend moves away? What happens now? I’m not going to sit on my bed and cry, that’s for sure. I’ll be far too upset to do that. Right now, I think I’m a bit… in shock? I don’t know, it’s all very confusing. I think I’ll just… well I don’t know! I guess the real question is…

What happens now?