The One Time I Was Scrapbooking High School Stuff

Can I post for a minute about how I've been graduated from high school for 7 years in May? Or that it's been 8.5 years since I went on my first date? And how it's been almost exactly 9 years since I experienced my first kiss? How is this possible?

Last night I was at a Relief Society activity, and a woman in my ward sat at our table with her 15 (almost 16) year old daughter. She (the daughter) was so excited about being 16 soon. I about choked on my water, because holy-crap-wasn't-that-me-like-yesterday?

It's no secret I loved high school. I made lasting friends and lasting memories. During this pregnancy I've been scrapbooking all my high school memorabilia (finally!) and it's been pretty hilarious to see the pictures and read the journal entries.

Remember how there were quite a few of us couples at the end of high school, and by golly, we were all going to get married? I think that worked out for exactly.... zero percent.
Also, most of my journal entries go something like this:
"OMG I love _______ so much!! When I'm around him I just feel so safe and loved! We are definitely right for each other and it's the best feeling in the world!!!"
I am not joking. That is probably like 97.9% of my journal entries.
The other 2.1% go something like:
"OMG I can't believe he broke up with me! I don't know what happened. I am so depressed and sad right now. I really thought this was it!! My heart is so broken and I don't think I'll ever get over it."
Yikes.

The good news is I made it through, and hopefully didn't lose too many friends in the process, HAHA. I was not that dramatic in real life (hopefully?) just on paper.

I dated a handful of boys (ok, 3) (ok, actually you can add in a couple more, but 3 I kissed, so we'll go with those 3) in high school and literally thought I was going to marry each one. My relationships lasted like this: 1st boyfriend (sophomore year): dated 4.5 months, probably cried for 3 months straight because he was my "FIRST LOVE" GUYS AND I WAS REALLY HEARTBROKEN. 2nd boyfriend (junior and senior year): we dated for a total of 7(ish) months over a 12 month period that involved 3 separate break-ups. I was convinced we were in it for the long haul and would be married after his mission. Good news is we stayed really good friends and still are today. And 3rd boyfriend (senior year, into college): dated 15 months before his mission, and I waited 12 months before breaking it off to date and marry Kyle. (That didn't go down so well....) So. I am clearly a romantic. Or maybe a little pathetic. I am not sure sometimes.


ANYWAY.

The moral of the story is high school was great, and looking back I can't help but laugh at how ridiculous I (we) all were and I wish you could have all been there to see it. Because it was great.

Also, please enjoy this picture from grad night. I'm not sure what's happening.

"A Field of Players"

Remember the time I posted this and said that I would have to find my paper comparing soccer to dating? Well, I found it.

Please enjoy this little gem.


"A Field of Players"

The air is fresh, the players are ready and the goal is in sight. The opportune moment is now. There are many players, it is a team sport. But only one man can win, only one man can make the goal. In this game, emotions go haywire. In the beginning you're excited. By the end you don't care anymore. And the middle? It's up and down like a roller coaster. One day, one play, everything is wonderful, but the next moment is awful and you feel like you have lost everything.

You push, push, push, harder than ever. The goal is what is most important. The emotion is high, the air alive with electricity - and then, failure. She didn't talk to you, your focus wavers. But it comes back into focus quickly; if you want her, you will have her. The game continues to be played.

Flying up and down the field you wait for the moment to get close, you shoot, and you score. The goal is in, the game is won. But come tomorrow? Tomorrow, all of this will be a memory from which you will retreat. For once the goal is made, the game won, nothing matters but the next game, the next goal, the next girl.



It is silly as all get out, but I have to say, I'm pretty proud of that piece of writing.