Record

My freshman year of high school, my best friend and I created friendship calendars. On them, we kept track of things like when we skipped school, when we were fighting, notable events at school like "science labs," sleepovers, etc. I don't remember what triggered this friendship recording, but we made multiple calendars and documented all sorts of details about our lives.

I have never been much of a journaler. Well, I guess that's not entirely true since I have a whole stack of journals that have sporadic entries spanning from 1991-2013. But I've never been able to really get behind journalling. It has never felt quite right. When I journal, I feel like I am someone else pretending to know what one is supposed to journal about. And it never actually gets at what is going on in my head. So to me, my journals are just amusing/horrifying records of points in time when I wrote down my thoughts in a format that mimicked what I thought journalling should be. Which is an interesting record all on its own. But it doesn't feel accurate.

But there's something about these friendship calendars that bring back so many crazy/strong memories by simply stating events that happened on specific days, without the accompanying feeling that these calendars are trying to be something that they're not. Just reading the line "Holly sister's with KC, Shari's, got ALL weird, Kristin walked home" on Wednesday, March 21, 2013, throws me back to McGillvary, wearing my backpack, trudging home from school after an early release day at school.

So recently, instead of feeling that little Young Women's pang of guilt for not journalling, I've started recording more information on my Google calendar. Things I did. Brief words that describe how I felt about something. Little changes like new employees at work. I know that journalling serves a lot of purposes, and only one of them is to actually record things that happened. But this weird little record somehow feels so much more full and true than anything I've ever tried to write out in paragraphs.

Here's a little taste of my calendaring skills. I hope Holly doesn't hate me for sharing this. I present to you, "Kristin and Holly 'friendship' calendar #3 (February)." We're talking February 2000 here, people. I'm pretty sure we intentionally put scare quotes around the word "friendship" to reflect the tumultuous nature of our friendship. We were awesome. And freshman in high school.

USA! USA!

Gold! They've done it again.

The game today took me back to the glory days of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lily, Brandi Chastain, and Julie Fowdy during the 1999 Women's World Cup final. I remember watching that game with my soccer team when I was fourteen. The US v. China. 0-0 at the end of overtime. After nine penalty kicks, it was tied 4-4. Then Brandi Chastain scored the winning penalty kick.

And I remember when me and my teammates would complain about having to run laps, or go to practice, or play three soccer games in one day. And all of the soccer parents would chuckle to themselves and talk about how we didn't know what a special thing we had. How we would all look back and realize how lucky we were to be involved in something so fun and to have such a close-knit team. And because I am stubborn and a know-it-all, I was always super annoyed when they said stuff like this. How dare they try to tell us that we aren't enjoying this enough. How dare they not let us complain about running two miles in 80-degree weather. And that's all true.

But, as painful it is for me to admit this, they were maybe a little bit right. I didn't get that team sports aren't really a part of adult life. I didn't get how amazing it was that my whole soccer team got along with each other, parents and players. I didn't get how much I would miss running drills at practice, and dribbling, and scoring goals.

And I know that I'm letting intense nostalgia color my view and whatever. But today, even though it has been crazy hot in Vancouver, I would give anything to lace up my cleats and run around a soccer field.

Magic

It's time to blog about my magical childhood. It's May, the days are getting longer, the outside air has a hint of mowed grass, and when I sit on my back deck and close my eyes, I can almost imagine myself in jellies pretending to get the milk from behind the waterfall like someone from The Boxcar Children. I am obsessed with my childhood. 

I had an exceptionally magical childhood. First, I was always creating something or pretending things. I made American Girl crafts, moccasins out of paper towels, tacos out of leaves and dirt, scrunchies, slingshots, friendship bracelets, beaded geckos, a bow and arrow, forts, accurate blueprints of my house to try to discover secret passageways, yarn dolls, teepees, and puff-painted t-shirts to name a few of my projects. I was really into wood creations too. I made a wood go-kart that actually rolled down the hill that you could steer with a rope, and I made multiple tree houses in our poor plumb tree, complete with rope ladders, hinged doors, and a rope bridge to the neighboring playhouse. And I was always pretending to be characters from books. Imagining that our playhouse was a boxcar and I was Violet from The Boxcar Children was a favorite. I had a pretty long Harriet the Spy phase where I would walk around all day taking notes in my notebook. I desperately wanted a dumbwaiter. I associate elementary school with getting off the bus, dropping my backpack in the kitchen, eating a chocolate chip cookie, and then diving into a project. 

Second, my mom is a genius and established a summer reading program. With seven children, I'm sure to her this was something like a last-ditch effort to stay sane in the summer, but to me, it's one of my favorite childhood memories. It's called The Box. For every x number of pages that we read, we got a ticket (think carnival ticket). The number of pages varied based on reading levels, but it was typically 100 pages per ticket. And then each week we had The Box where we could redeem our tickets for prizes. These weren't cheap plastic prizes either--there was legit stuff in The Box. And you could request things to be put in the box and then read away for a couple weeks to save up. I read so much. Granted, some of this reading was purely motivated by the It's a Small World jewelry box that I desperately needed, but most of it was just motivated by summer boredom and genuine interest in books. The books I read during the summers of my childhood are still some of my favorites. Some stand-outs: Great Brain books, From the Mixed up Files of Ms. Basil E. Frankweiler, Nancy Drew books, The Key to the Treasure, Boxcar Children, Babysitter's Club, all Ramona books, Tuck Everlasting, A Wrinkle in Time, Island of the Blue Dolphins, and The Trumpet of the Swan. 

Birth to ten years old was a dream. I was totally nailing it. 

And then it all got terribly awkward. 

Dear Mindi

In high school I had a YW leader introduce me to the show Felicity. Her name was Mindi, and she had all four seasons on DVD, so I would spend long Saturday afternoons at her apartment watching episode after episode. I love Felicity. I love her over-sized sweaters, her blue converse, her awkwardness, her borderline stalker behavior, her infamous season two haircut, her love of Sarah McLachlan, and her endless Ben/Noel debate. My favorite over-the-top-dramatic-but-incredibly-endearing aspect of Felicity is the tapes that Felicity sends to Sally. Sally was her high school French tutor, and Felicity has never been able to talk to anyone the way she talks to Sally. So instead of writing, she records cassette tapes and sends them in the mail. She always starts her tapes "Dear Sally."

In the middle of my Senior year of high school, Mindi moved to Tehachapi, California. After Mindi left, I was really tempted to start sending her tapes, but I felt silly blatantly recreating the world of Felicity. (Or maybe I didn't have a tape recorder.) So instead, I sent her a series of "Dear Mindi" letters. Maybe it's because I've been watching My So Called Life, or because I've been listening to my nostalgia-infused playlist on the way to work, or because I'm back living in the place I grew up, but I've recently been preoccupied with my high school days. At the risk of revealing how silly and emotional I was during high school, I'm going to share a Dear Mindi letter.

Imagine that your laptop is a clunky gray desktop, put on some Sarah McLachlan, eat a pizza pocket, get out your high school yearbooks, and enjoy this lovely blast from the past.

Dear Mindi,

Tomorrow I turn 18 and in 3 weeks I graduate and in 3 months I'll be a freshman in college. I can't imagine actually being done with high school. No more 6 period days where the classes are easy, but you still feel challenged. And all your teachers know your name, and know you're a good student. No more complete lack of responsibility, and no more Mt. View. No more seeing my friends every day and soon no more Vancouver. It's sad, and overwhelming. So many things are changing and life will never be the same. I'll move on and forget a lot of my high school days, and the sad days and the memories will blur into a blob of "high school" that will seem meaningless and so long ago. And I don't know how I feel about it all. I'm excited and I hate it and I'm nervous. But most of all, I hate this limbo phase where change is looming right ahead, and I know it's coming, so everything seems bittersweet. I feel carefree, but at the same time everything is tainted with the knowledge that I know it will be over soon.

It feels like all of high school I've been waiting to get out. I've been waiting to move on and be an adult and live. And now I'm almost there, and I want to go back and be kid. I don't want to go to college. It's like passing through doors that lock right behind you. You can't go back. Maybe I have control issues. I want to be able to choose. But time kind of takes the choice away. And I know college isn't really adulthood yet. But it feels like I'm giving a lot up. And I'll have to take on a lot of new things and independence. I really thought I would act differently to all this change. I thought I would be strong and indifferent and ready for what next year will bring. But I'm the opposite. I'm going a little haywire as it all becomes real.

My life has been consistent for the past 18 years. And now I feel that after this change, more change is just going to come, and I'll constantly be saying hello and goodbye to people and things I'm a part of. I need more consistency. Life really will never be the same, and it's all work and a challenge. It's like stairs leading up higher and higher and sometimes you reach landings and can rest, but ultimately you keep climbing and climbing. You never feel like you've made it, like you can just stop. But I guess stopping would be boring, and you wouldn't learn anything if you weren't going anywhere or doing anything. It just drains the energy out of me thinking about how uphill life is, and it's not going to change. But hopefully I'll change and be better at dealing with it.

All of these realizations are things I've known in the back of my mind. But until now they haven't really affected me, and I'm starting to realize that they are really true. It's so different to have knowledge floating around in your head than it is to really know it's true from experience. I feel like I have a lot of knowledge floating in my mind, but I don't know a lot of things. Does that make sense? So I could spew advice to myself about how to deal with certain things because I know that it will all turn out for the best in the end, but I really don't know that.

I think one of the hardest parts of leaving high school behind is the feeling that I haven't changed anything or done anything with the past four years. I don't feel really sad to say goodbye to friends, but it's almost sadder to know you don't really have anyone to say goodbye to. The past two years I've been floating in and out of groups of friends, which has been fun and a lot less drama. But in the end, I don't feel any strong connection . . . I feel easily forgettable. I just hope that all the people that I will remember will remember me too. I really hope they do. All of my best friends and the teachers that I have loved and the people I had long conversations with. I just want them to remember, so it doesn't feel like it never happened.

I'm being silly and sentimental, and I don't care. I'm too many emotions right now. I just want to fast forward to next year when BYU will be home, and this will feel like a long time ago. I can't imagine walking across the stage at graduation. And that feeling of everything being so final. What was it like for you? Were you as crazy as I am now? I need to feel sane about this.

In one hour and ten minutes I'm legally an adult.

Love,
Kristin

The Commute

I commute from Vancouver to Portland every day. It's 14.3 miles, and with no traffic it's a 20-minute drive. Portland and Vancouver are separated by the Columbia River, which means all routes between the two include a bridge. There are exactly 2 bridges connecting these cities--the next closest bridge is 45 miles away. 2 bridges. 7 lanes total.

So there is always traffic.

And every day as I sit in my car during this 40-minute drive, inching forward down I-5, I think to myself, I really should be doing something productive with all this time. And I'll start doing the math. 40 minutes each way, times 2 times a day, times 5 times a week = 6.7 hours. Which is 353 hours a year. That's like 23 seasons of TV. Or nine full work weeks. Or 7 times longer than I spent writing my thesis. I could get books on tape and finally finish Mockingjay. I could be catching up on the dozens of episodes of This American Life that have been filling up my iTunes. I could be chatting with family. Trying to figure out Derrida. Thinking about content for the press release I'm writing at work. I could be planning what I'll eat for dinner. My next Relief Society lesson. What I'll wear tomorrow.

Instead, I have memorized every word to Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger." And Katy Perry's "Part of Me." And Adele's "Set Fire to the Rain." And Train's "Drive By."

This weekend I thought I'd mix it up and create a driving playlist to listen to instead of the radio. This seemed like a good compromise between mindlessly singing along to the same five radio songs and actually doing something productive. Once or twice a year I create a playlist named with the date, and I add every song I feel like listening to that day. I do this mostly because it's so endearing to go back to, say, the "September 13, 2010" playlist and be reminded that I was obsessed with songs like "Calm Under the Waves," and "Nevermind Me," and that I had a little Dave Matthews Band revival with songs like  "The Space Between." So, on Saturday I create a "March 31, 2012" playlist and added everything I was in the mood for in my music library.

As I drove to work today, I was intensely fascinated by the version of me that had created this playlist a mere 48 hours earlier.

First, there were a ton of Chicago songs. The band from the 80s. Like "What Kind of Man Would I be?" and "Love Me Tomorrow." And lots of Lifehouse--the early 2000s stuff with really slow songs like "Simon," and "Everything." It also included "The Freshman," by the Verve Pipe. Celine Dion. Lots and lots of Snow Patrol. Some U2. Some DMB. Lots of Goo Goo Dolls. Some Dashboard Confessional. A few Joni Mitchell songs. And almost a whole Train album.

Aside from some Imogen Heap and Regina Spektor, it was like a perfect melding of high school and freshman year of college memories. Every song was a major jolt into the past. Dashboard's "Screaming Infidelities" takes me back to afternoons in May during my Senior year of high school, driving to Lacamas Lake with the windows down. Snow Patrol songs take me back to my oil painting class my freshman year of college when I would work for long uninterrupted hours on my assignments in the art studio and listen to my two Snow Patrol CDs on my discman. During eighth and ninth grade, I would sometimes fall asleep to the Chicago CD because I had borrowed it from my sister, and I felt cool knowing music that my sister owned. And my sister and I used to sing along to Train's "Meet Virginia." I have a very distinct memory of us driving south on 97th and "Meet Virginia" came on the radio. We were so excited, and we sang every word.

Every song on the playlist was intensely saturated with memories. And sure, my playlists often have lots of old music like the Goo Goo Dolls and Lifehouse. But generally they're made up of generic contemporary music like Imogen Heap or Rascall Flatts or the Glee Cast.

And I have no conclusion to this post because I'm still so intrigued by the state of mind that made me feel so in need of 91 songs of pure nostalgia. But the commute was delightfully unproductive.

High School Band

I used to play the flute in my high school band. I wasn't any good: there were three rows of us and the best players like Mac, Katie, and Emily sat in the first row, and I was comfortably mediocre in the second row. Being in band meant automatic participation in marching band, so I even spent a week of August at band camp learning our routine. We got packets of pages and pages of little dots in formations, and each dot had a number that corresponded to a person. Within a certain number of beats, you moved to the location of your dot on the next page, making shapes like a baseball diamond and moving squares. Over and over, we marched around the school parking lot with the drum majors keeping exaggerated time atop their towers. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. All very technical. This was in addition to the hour of class time we spent practicing our sheet music in the band room. (I remember making faces with my clarinet-playing friend Holly who sat directly across from me.) We performed during halftime at football games, competed in some competitions, marched in some parades, and had normal sit-bored-in-the-auditorium concerts. I dutifully attended these events and even occasionally weighed down my backpack with my flute to practice at home.

Right before the second semester of my sophomore year, I quit band. Because I had been part of the band for over a year, I felt like I needed to explain in person to my band teacher my reason for quitting. Or maybe my mom told me I had to. I don't remember. I went in during lunch to break the news. I think I said that I was really busy and my class schedule was too full to fit in the classes I wanted along with the classes I needed. My band teacher seemed to take it really hard, which caught me off guard. (Let's please remember that I was not a flute star.) I don't remember if he tried to convince me to stay in band, or if he was just curt and distant about it, but I do distinctly remember that he said, "I guarantee that you're really going to regret this decision."

I was a little taken aback because I had been so sure about my decision. The reasons I gave him about time and my class schedule were true, but, in addition, I just didn't like band that much. I didn't like practicing. I didn't have the same core group of friends in band that some people had. I had a lot of other activities like soccer and school that I was more invested in.

But all the same, I've been dying to know if my band teacher would end up being right about this. Would I end up regretting my bold move to quit band?

Almost ten years later, I can safely say that I do not. Does a small part of me like the idea of being more musically talented and having a close group of band geek friends that I've kept in touch with all these years? Sure. In the same way I wish that I had been a part of my high school's theater productions or the yearbook staff. But band just wasn't my thing. Instead, I have really great friends and memories from my soccer teams and my classes. I understand where my band teacher was coming from. Band was his thing. If he had quit band his whole life would have been different. But without band, I still had lots of friends, and I also had room in my schedule to take classes like wood tech, pottery, and painting.

Plus, quitting band meant that I'd never have to look like this again:

Also: Happy Bestie Day

To honor the day, some friendship jewelry that makes me nostalgic: 

And some of my share-half-a-best-friendship-necklace friends over the years: 

Christmas

I decorated the tree, finished my shopping, and purchased Barbra Streisand's "Jingle Bells." Ready for Christmas. 

The Sound of Music

It doesn't matter how many times I watch this movie, It gets me every time. It makes me want to go to Austria, to wear a dirndl, to marry a captain, and to be Julie Andrews. I love it. All 174 minutes.

I am Leaving Provo

Well, this is it. After 7 years in Provo I'm finally leaving. Today is my last day working at the Internship Office, which might be the weirdest part  since I've probably spent more time at the Internship Office over the past three years than at my apartment. Part of me is intensely weirded out by the thought of leaving Provo for good (this is to be expected because I generally don't handle change well), but a larger part of me is finally ready to move on. After 6 different apartments, 7 wards, 21 roommates, 8 intramural teams, 6 jobs, 4 international trips, including 2 study abroad programs, teaching 6 classes, taking 72 courses, and earning 2 degrees, I think it's time. So, tomorrow morning I'm waking up, packing up my Jeep, and driving north up I-15 bound for Vancouver, Washington. To be sufficiently sappy and nostalgic as I prepare to leave, here is a list of the top 10 things I'll miss about Provo.

• Provo bakery donuts. Specifically, the buttermilk bars, the maple bars, and the cake donuts. My life will never be the same. 
• Frozen yogurt establishments on every corner. Cake batter frozen yogurt. Delicious. 
• The dollar theater. How can I ever go back to paying more than $1.25 for a movie?
• Watching TV, daily chats, and trying new places to eat with Elisa. Gilmore Girls, Felicity, Bachelorette, Project Runway, 30 Rock, Parks and Rec, Gossip Girl, So You Think You Can Dance. The list goes on.
• Living in the same city as 50% of my siblings. Especially living and working with Kim for the past year. 
• Chatting with program people in the carrels. Especially Vilja, Dave, Jack, Meridith, Elise, and Jen.
• The JFSB. Prettiest building on BYU campus.
• The Internship Office. Especially Adrienne--I'm pretty sure she's the best boss that I will ever have. 
• The chance to run into someone I know. Like running into Kristina from freshman year last week. Or students from past semesters. 
• Christie. I know Christie moved a year ago, but I still associate Provo with being friends with her. 

Au Revoir!

Merry Christmas!

Even though the youngest person at our house is 16 we still got up at 6am!? I'm not really sure how that happened. Em says it happened because she was up at 3am. How that happened, I'm not sure either.

It has been a good Christmas. I now have enough movies/TV shows to last me until June 16th 2010. Approximately. Lindsey, you will be happy/proud to hear that I got Elf. I hate that movie!!! And then I watch it and laugh all the way through it. I also got the first two seasons of the british version of The Office. And the coveted third season of Felicity.

My family got a Wii last Saturday, and my arms have been sore ever since. I think it's the boxing. I'm pretty much a tennis master.

It's snowing here! Of course it isn't sticking and it has only been going for about 10 minutes and will probably stop in the next 10 minutes. But, you know. Ryan just suggested that we do a puzzle. Em suggested that we sit at the window and watch the snowflakes fall.

In honor of my Linds(a/e)ys leaving BYU I thought I would list a few memories.

Lindsey. The movies of our lives (sorry that I never got around to junior year, I'm a failure), skipping sociology and talking in the SWKT, the pumpkin cookies (mmm delicious), going to that dance in the Morris Center, Wednesday night movies in DT, taking pictures on campus with Miriam, frolicking through the leaves with Sarah, me and Krystle coming to your house, pumpkin parties, any and all things pumpkin, mice in your apt, got vacuum?, lunches in the Morris center, your power over me (I can't remember if I ate that banana peel?), Whatev, let's g.

Lindsay. Roommate Christmas, the mattress on your back, the victoria's secret bag, staying up late talking on our couches and discussing our lives, "it is soooo hot outside. beads of sweat are literally DRIPPING down my face. I don't think I can make it much longer. Lindsaaaaaaaay," watching CMT and MTV on saturday mornings. Einstein Bagels, Gurus, Pier 49, Costa Vida, Provo Bakery, watching Bleak House, watching every single episode of Felicity, re-watching some classic first season episodes of Felicity before you left, Ben and his buzzed head and sweatshirt.

Where's the love y'all?

I was talking with my rooommate Michelle yesterday about how easy it is to forget that you lived a life before the one you're living now. Let me explain. I'm so used to Alpine Court, to sleeping in the same room as Michelle, to being friends with Christie, to working 25 hours a week, to my classes this semester, to my shift at cougar creations. It's hard to remember that even just this summer my life was different. Lindsay Craven was my roommate, and now I've only seen her twice since the new school year started. Christina wasn't in Romania, and we worked hours on end with each other, listened to Colbie Caillat constantly and went to the malt shoppe. Then back a little further. I was roommates with Meghan, Lacey and Lindsay. I still lived in the 51st ward. I hung out with Lindsay and Stephanie all the time. I would stay up late talking to Meghan. I watched CMT Saturday mornings. I still lived near Lindsey Reynolds and would occasionally sit in B20 and chat/complain/analyze people. Back a little further. I lived in B21 with Lisa Monson, Krystle Farnsworth and Miriam Wallin. Miriam and I used to brush our teeth together late at night, and I visited her house in Kaysville a couple times. We ran together. I knew what was going on in Lisa and Krystle's lives. Still further. I lived with Krystle in 719 of S hall in DT. We had dining plus. We watched a lot of movies. To this day she is one of the few people I have danced in front of. We hung out with Lisa Monson a lot. Kristina Cummins was one of my best friends. I remember sitting in the basement of S hall with Kristina sharing things about our lives that felt so personal. I felt so close to her. Lindsey, Chelsea and I bonded. We watched movies during visiting hours. I could go on forever. I could go back to senior year of high school and remember being friends with Katie Hagen and Stu and even further to being friends with Katie Nye and Holly. Not to mention living at home, taking different classes each year and endless hours playing soccer.

I can settle into a routine in like 2 weeks and it feels like this is my life—like I've never been different, I've never had different friends. I think all these thoughts were really prompted from hanging out with Lindsey and Chelsea yesterday. It was so good to see them. It was also really good to remind myself that my whole life has not been lived at Alpine Court #25. Not even close.

It has been a really good conference weekend. Busy, of course. I didn't get any homework done, of course. But really good.