tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84430743789102586622024-03-14T01:06:20.490-07:00Life as I {KNOW IT}my public journal.Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-71341283687261217812013-01-27T14:56:00.001-08:002013-01-27T14:56:03.812-08:00soccer players on a planeI feel like it's been a little too long since you've read an Emmie Story. These are stories that are random, and involve my hilariously weird life. I remembered a really good one today. So fasten your seatbelts everyone, and off we go.<br />
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I went to Florida a little before Christmas. We had to wake up early to catch our flight, so I obviously wasn't wearing makeup, had brushed my hair, or was wearing decent clothes. I was decked out in my Nike sneakers, sweatshirt and stained neon pink sweats. I had curled my hair the previous day, but hadn't bothered to brush it so it was sticking out at all angles. I had my pillow pet under my arm, along with my carry on bag full of books. Just painting the picture for future reference.<br />
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So here I am, waiting for the flight to start boarding, listening to my ipod and staring at everyone around me. I was checking Instagram, when all of a sudden, my built-in hot guy radar spiked. I whipped my head up and looked around me. And then, I saw it, the holy grail for a teenage girl.<br />
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To my left was a giant group of soccer players. Ages probably sixteen to eighteen. And every single one of them was attractive. I just sat there, my jaw hitting the floor, openly staring and beholding their good looks. Then, one of them felt my unrelenting stare, and turned to look at me. This snapped me out of my daze and into reality. And reality was where I was holding a unicorn pillow pet.<br />
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I shoved my face back into my phone, half hoping that they hadn't seen me. The other half hoping that they had seen me, but despite my appearance of a hobo, they had already fallen in love with me.<br />
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It's possible, okay?<br />
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I was sitting there trying to figure out how I could get them to notice me (in a good way) when the stewardess announced that anyone gate-checking anything needed to proceed to the gate. So I had to stand up, and walk past these greek gods all lined up, waiting to get on the plane. Some of them stared at me, others ignored me. I clutched my unicorn and my backpack tightly and held my head up high while passing them.<br />
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After that event was over, my brother and I made it to our seats to find that we were sitting next to a strange man. He had already claimed the window seat. He was probably in his twenties. He looked at us like you would look at the weird kid that dressed up as Gandalf for career day. My brother and I looked at each other for a split second, and then fought over the aisle seat. He won. I huffed and promptly plopped down in the middle, uncomfortably between this judging man and my brother. Then, the soccer players entered the plane.<br />
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I leaned over to my brother, and started begging him to let me sit in the aisle. Just for a few minutes. I wanted those ridiculously attractive boys to notice me. He refused and first, and the agreed when I said he could borrow my skull candy headphones.<br />
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I switched seats with him quickly and stared at the soccer players. Then, I remembered. I'm awkward. This could be interesting.<br />
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I stuck my head down when they first started passing me. Then, they couldn't move because there were too many people boarding. So a black haired beauty was standing next to me. My brother nudged me with his arm, sending the message to make my move. I shook my head, awkwardness setting in. He finally got frustrated and started talking for me. This is how the conversation went:<br />
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Brother: "What sport do you guys play?"<br />
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Hot kid: (with a the Forza logo on his shirt) "Soccer."<br />
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B: "What's your team name?"<br />
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HK: "The Sharks."<br />
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B: "Cool."<br />
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awkward silence.<br />
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HK: (looking at me) "Well, bye."<br />
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Me: ugghhhhhh.<br />
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For the rest of the flight I took stalker pictures of them and sent them to my friends, but I never got the nerve to talk to one.<br />
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I'm such an awkward being.<br />
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and in the spirit of hot guys... here you go:<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-6002614475633355702013-01-17T08:37:00.001-08:002013-01-17T08:37:42.362-08:00talented (part 2)Remember a while ago when my mom told me I had to get off my butt and take some lessons, or do something? (you can read about it <a href="http://emmieisaredhead.blogspot.com/2012/10/talented.html">here</a>) Well guess what? She actually enforced it.<br />
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It took place at, yet again, another doctor's appointment (they still don't know what's wrong with me. I'll do a medical update later). I was getting my blood drawn (again) by a nurse who didn't seem to be familiar with the common needle. She was digging around in my arm, looking for a vein. I was staring at the wall trying not to pass out. I made my mom talk to me while the nurse kept digging. I finally started to slide down, and my face turned whiter than normal. I don't even remember what I was trying to talk about, but my body began to relax and I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I remember mentioning that I was hungry, and my mom (who was trying not to pass out herself) told me that we could go to Noodles & Company. I then tried to fight my way back to consciousness, with the promise of buttered noodles.<br />
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Soon after that hairy ordeal was over, we were driving and I realized we were going the wrong way. I told my mom this, and she looked sheepish. She told me that she only said we could go get my beloved noodles because I was practically on the floor. I was furious. I begged and pleaded with her. A look came across her face, and I knew she was going to say something that I didn't want to hear.<br />
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"Okay. I'll take you. IF you try out for the Wizard of Oz)<br />
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(Backstory: from ages 6-13 I was in musicals. I gave them up after a while. I don't remember why. Also: my brothers were trying out for the Wizard of Oz in Farmington, and my mom had been trying to get me to do it too. I had refused. Until now)<br />
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My confused, starving brain didn't really register what I was getting myself into. I hastily agreed, and we were on our way to noodle-y bliss.<br />
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A few days later, my mom reminded me of the auditions. Her reminder was ignored. I chose my song on the way there, and didn't even take a second look at the lines provided.<br />
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My audition was bumpy. My voice cracked and I forgot the words, and I couldn't dance like they asked me to. I expected an Munchkin. But, later that night I got a call from a number I had never seen before. Picking up my phone, I answered it to get the news that they wanted me to come to callbacks, for the part of the Scarecrow.<br />
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I learned the song and the lines and went. I waited a long time, got hit in the face and my voice cracked in those auditions too.<br />
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So then I'm on the computer, and I discover the cast list. Checked the Scarecrow part. Not me. I was okay with that. So I looked at this dancer group that the director promised that I'd be in. I wasn't there either.<br />
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I started to panic a little. Was I so bad that I wasn't even in the cast? I scoured the list for my name a few times, when I finally spotted it. Relieved, I moved my eyes from my name to the part I'd been assigned.<br />
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Are you ready for this? I don't even think you're ready. Just, be ready. I got cast as....<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Yellow Brick Road.</span><br />
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"What the eff?!" I said loudly to the computer. "How the crap can I be road?!" The computer just sat there, probably offended that I was yelling at it. It wasn't the computers fault I was cast as an inatamite object. It probably felt bad for me.<br />
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But I just sat there and laughed. Out of all the parts, I was a road. I don't know what I'll have to do. Maybe lay on the ground, dressed in yellow while people step on me? Who knows?<br />
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My life is so weird.<br />
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I'll keep you updated on my road-status.<br />
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<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-85248233486691044972013-01-07T20:50:00.002-08:002013-01-07T20:50:44.660-08:00The Princess and the PeeIt's been no secret that my body is turning against me lately. I woke up with a knife in my side on Thursday, and my mom promptly ran me to that awful Instacare place where you wait five hours to get your temperature taken.<br />
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But everyone thought I had Appendicitis, so I was rushed into the back. They took my blood and made me pee in a cup. When they couldn't find anything wrong with me, the doctor (who was almost deaf) told me I needed to get an ultrasound. The conversation went like this:<br />
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Doctor: Well... we can't see what's wrong yet. We haven't ruled out anything, but I'm almost positive it isn't Appendicitis. But we want an ultrasound just to be sure.<br />
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Mom: She has to get an ultrasound? Why?<br />
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D: Nothing's wrong with her.<br />
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M: Then why does she have to get an ultrasound?<br />
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D: (stares at her for a minute) A what? She wants a what?<br />
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M: Why are you having her get an ultrasound?!<br />
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D: I already said that.<br />
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M: I know you said it, but WHY?!<br />
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D: To see if she has Appendicitis!<br />
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So after being poked and prodded for a few hours, I went home and waited for my ultrasound. The thing that those new mothers don't tell you is that you have to have a full bladder before you get one, so they can see everything. And if you know me, I swallow my spit and I have to pee two seconds later. So I downed 32 ounces of water. Then I accidentally peed it out. So I downed another 32 ounces right before we went back to the doctor.<br />
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We went up the the fancy ultrasound clinic thing, and I seriously felt I was pregnant. It was beyond embarrassing. Especially since there was this really cute boy walking past, and my mom said as loud as possible, "We're here for my daughter's ULTRASOUND." And he gave me a judgmental look and tailed behind his mom. Running away from the teen mom.<br />
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So we get in the ultrasound room, and I lay down in this very cold table, my bladder bursting. The nurse put this goo on my stomach that was first cold, and then you feel a fire-y sensation. She told me to lift up my shirt, and I complied. Then she shoved this little ultrasound camera thing down my pants unexpectedly, and I jumped up with surprise. She told me to relax, so I just was laying there, and the the camera thing was tickling me and I had to pee SO BAD. And then she told me my bladder wasn't full enough, and made me drink the disgusting tap water. After that I was completely dying. When she finally got down to her ultrasound business, she pushed down really hard on my stomach and I screeched. It hurt and I had to go really really really bad. She gives me a glare and keeps going. By the end of it I'm sweating like crazy. When she said she was done I booked it to the bathroom, cutting in front of this guy who had to take a urine test. I'm sorry dude, but pretending to be pregnant is hard enough without having to wait for the bathroom.<br />
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<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-4922452805855650082013-01-01T15:00:00.000-08:002013-01-01T15:00:14.143-08:00twenty thirteenI can't believe the year is gone. This year was filled with wonderful memories, experiences, and lessons. Full of great triumphs and messy mistakes. Filled with laughter, tears and hard work. I think 2012 has been one of the toughest years for me. But it was also one of the most rewarding.<br />
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Highlights?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">graduating from Jr. High.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">getting my braces off and finally feeling beautiful in my own skin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">summer. every second of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">accepting some of my flaws and working on them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">making mistakes, and learning some big lessons for them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">learning that letting people out of my life is a good thing, and a necessary thing sometimes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">becoming an all-around better person.</span></div>
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I'm expecting 2013 to be hard, but I'm also expecting it to be just as rewarding as 2012 was to me. I usually share my resolutions on here, but most of them are kind of personal. So I'll share one or two.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">1. finish my scriptures.</span></div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-34148424775631169412012-12-25T23:30:00.003-08:002012-12-25T23:30:59.516-08:00let's talk boys.So, I've gotten a couple or requests to write an entry about boys. (mostly from 12 year old girls. ok. all of the requests were from 12 year old girls) So, here you go. An awkward boy post, featuring me struggling over every word. Because I am a little confused in the boy department. Alright. A lot confused. So please enjoy this humorous struggle to answer the questions of a few little girls. Fasten your seatbelts.<div>
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In my fifteen years of life, the only thing I know for sure about males is that they like to injure each other. And sometimes me. I have indeed gotten tackled and punched in the gut. And hit square in the face with a snowball. And hit on the arm. And in the face again with a tether ball. And a couple soccer balls. I think guys forget that I'm not as tough as I make myself sound, and my body is actually fragile. Hence, I get injured. I have a couple of the scars to prove it. </div>
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Anyway.</div>
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I've liked exactly five boys in my lifetime. Five boys in fifteen years. Most girls have liked over 30. Okay, 20. Let's just say 25 to meet in the middle. Point is, while all other teenage girls on the planet know how to navigate through the dangerous waters of flirting and relationships, I'm that one kid that still has to use an inner tube when they're in sixth grade. While we're picturing that, just imagine me wearing one of those full body swimsuits with a duck floaty around my stomach. You're welcome for that image.</div>
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So I'm not really qualified to post about this. I haven't kissed anyone. Never had a boyfriend. So I'm not really writing this for advice reasons. I'm just writing it to entertain myself, because I'm kind of hilarious.</div>
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Okay sorry. I'll try to focus.</div>
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So, when my cute friend asked me to write this, I was specifically asked how to tell a boy you "like" him.</div>
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Well. I'm not the kind of person to play those tricky mind games that some girls have mastered. I just kinda went up to them and told them I liked them. Put it right there on the table. Most of the time, they just kinda awkwardly skirted away from the subject and didn't talk to me for a couple months after I told them. Don't worry, I'm kind of a cocky person. So I would just shake it off and think "Your loss baby!" (courtesy from the Little Rascals). Because I'm kind of a winner. I can beat any level of Unblock Me, eat a whole box of Bagel Bites in one sitting, I burst into random showtunes, read until the early hours of the morning and I'm addicted to the Internet.</div>
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A real catch, I am.</div>
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(I also talk like Yoda sometimes)</div>
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To end this fun little rambling monologue, I'll post a video from one of my favorite Youtubers, Marissa Lace. She is pretty hilarious and cracks me up. Here you go.</div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-3197231476875640332012-12-23T22:54:00.000-08:002012-12-23T22:54:07.858-08:00the true meaning.Because I'm a teenage girl that loves Toy Story and kittens, it's obvious that I love Christmas. I love the weather, the lights, decorations, music and presents.<div>
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But this year is a little different for me.</div>
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Because Florida was our big Christmas present, I haven't been focusing on the gifts. I haven't gone to Temple Square to gawk at those amazing lights. I haven't been laboring over what to get for my friends. And I haven't been parading around in a Santa Hat. Those aren't the true meaning of Christmas.</div>
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So what would be the the meaning of the holiday? There are many answers.</div>
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The true meaning of Christmas is laughing your head off when you're playing a game with your family.</div>
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When that little old man in your ward comes up and gives you a kiss on the cheek and wishes you a Merry Christmas. </div>
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When you hold a door open for five minutes straight at Target for a giant crowd, just to be nice.</div>
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When you're babysitting a cute family, and the little girl wants to play with the Nativity and tells you about Jesus, and how much she loves Him.</div>
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It's a day of laughing at ugly Christmas sweaters with your best friends.</div>
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It's when you tear up when your little brother sings at Church because you're so grateful for him.</div>
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It's when your cousin calls you Mi-mi instead of Emmie.</div>
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When you're reading your scriptures and you feel the Spirit.</div>
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It's those cheesy Christmas movies they show you in Seminary.</div>
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When your best friend gets up in front of the entire Seminary class to bear her testimony, and you can't believe how good of a person she is.</div>
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It's when your friend remembers an old movie you two used to watch together when you were little, and they give you the movie on DVD instead of the old VHS.</div>
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It's the family you're with, the memories you make and the love you share.</div>
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So Merry Christmas my dear followers. I love you all.</div>
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<img alt="PIY Grinchy #Christmas Quote 5x7 Printable Gift or Wall Art" src="http://media-cache-lt0.pinterest.com/upload/139330182191442250_jJBs7BhX_c.jpg" /></div>
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take advice from our dear friend, Mr. Grinch.</div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-86997526695995210902012-12-16T20:31:00.001-08:002012-12-16T20:31:52.263-08:00hello.hello there, old friends. It's been a little while. And I have found a free moment where I don't want to just flop on my bed and listen to my Spotify playlists over and over. <div>
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(Music update, I've re-discovered my love for Passion Pit lately. Sleepyhead, Take a Walk and Moth's Wings are some of my favorites. I've also been getting into Modest Mouse. Float on is my favorite. And lastly, the Xx. You either love or hate their music, but I'm all for it. Favorites are Fiction and VCR. Go check them out. now.)</div>
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Sorry, you got me talking about music. But anyway, I found a moment of free time so I decided to give you a small update on my life.</div>
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I've been crazy busy with everything. School has caught up to me, and I am swamped with makeup homework. And with the end of term coming up, I've been a little pressured with everything. It's nothing like middle school though. This kind of stress I can handle. </div>
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I've also been really busy with my wonderful friends. I'm not going to lie, I have a lot of them. I'm a pretty pleasant person, and I like people. That being said, I have a lot of different groups of friends. And sometimes it feels like I'm being pulled in a thousand different directions by different people. It's not bad, and I love having so many people to relate to. It just overwhelms me. </div>
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It's kind of funny, but now that I'm happy with my friends and don't feel like I have to impress them all the time, I've turned into the laziest teenage girl ever. I don't care about my appearance as much anymore. You can find me at school any day of the week with my hair in a sock bun, wearing my mom's old sweatshirts and leggings (not her leggings. mine. for clarification) I wear less makeup, and I allow myself to sleep in a little longer than those girls that get up at 4 am to put on their faces. Chap stick and mascara are my buddies. </div>
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Overall, I am completely loving my life. I'm content and happy with myself, with my friends and I am working my butt off in school. I need to keep 'dem grades up. </div>
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Like anyone else in the world, I have my challenges. I'm a little disappointed that I can't get a ski pass this year. I usually get one for Christmas, but our christmas present was Florida. I'm a little sleep deprived. I not eating as healthy as I should, and sometimes walking up the stairs to the fifth floor leaves me winded. Trust me, I have my issues. </div>
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That's basically it, except I have one hilarious story to tell (because what Emmie blog post doesn't contain a funny story?). Names shall not be mentioned to protect the idiot.</div>
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So, to give you a little background, there's this person in a couple of my classes. They sit by me because our last names are similar. And they cheat off of my tests like a little snot. I admit, I do really well on tests. I study my butt off and I try my hardest. And when some little pill face tries to take credit for my work, I got really upset.</div>
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I told the teachers (as this happened in multiple classes) but of course they did nothing. So I tried my best to avoid the situation. I would practically lay on top of my paper so they couldn't copy, I would call them out on it. Nothing was working.</div>
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One day we're sitting in a class (not disclosed to protect the idiot), taking a test. This was a test that I was very nervous for. I had to teach myself the entire unit because I was in Florida, and I had been spending days reviewing. So when the creep next to me leans over to try to get some answers, I freaked out a little bit. </div>
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And then I realized, the teacher had handed out two different types of the test. </div>
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We had different tests. </div>
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I almost died, I was laughing so hard. I had been covering my test with my paper, and putting it on the opposite side of this retard. After realizing that we had different tests, I had an idea.</div>
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I gladly put my test on the side of my desk the creep was on, and let them cheat like a crazy person. I giggled to myself the whole class, feeling so proud of my cleverness. And when I handed in my test, my teacher laughed with me. </div>
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Well, the next class, we got our test back. My score? 90 percent. I could've done better, but I was pretty proud of it, considering I taught myself everything.</div>
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Guess the Einstein next to me score was?</div>
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53 percent.</div>
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Emmie-1. Idiot-0.</div>
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Thank you, and good night.</div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-45063068960383035612012-11-27T23:28:00.000-08:002012-11-27T23:28:02.249-08:00The Cliche Thanksgiving Post.Although I am about being original, and doing your own thing, I do have to go along with the trend of these Thanksgiving blog posts. Because I do love writing things that I'm thankful for. Also, I haven't posted for a little while. So, although it's a little late, here you go.<br />
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I am thankful for:<br />
(let's take this big long list and divide it into sub-categories, shall we?)<br />
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<u>people (don't be offended if I forgot you. I can barely remember my own name these days)</u><br />
my amazing, fantastic, wonderful, lovely mum.<br />
the rest of my crazy family.<br />
Melany.<br />
Judy.<br />
Harley.<br />
Whitney.<br />
the Man Band (nickname credit goes to Melany): Casey, Roman, Jenson and Mark.<br />
Desiree.<br />
Landry.<br />
Kensley.<br />
Becca.<br />
Jessica.<br />
Kaitlyn.<br />
Keaton.<br />
Carli.<br />
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and everyone else that my brain can't think of.<br />
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(I'm also thankful for Joseph Gorden-Levitt. Thank's for being so beautiful, you amazingly gorgeous man. Sorry. I have a slight celebrity crush on him)<br />
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I'm thankful for: Passion Pit, The White Stripes, Ed Sheeran, Regina Spektor, Coldplay, Noah and the Whale, Modest Mouse, Imagine Dragons, Two Door Cinema Club, M83, AWOLNATION, Ingrid Michaelson, Zooey Deschanel, The Temper Trap, The XX, and many many many more bands that are a part of my life.<br />
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I'm thankful for the challenges that I have in my life, because I learn from them and come out a better person.<br />
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I'm thankful for hugs.<br />
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I'm thankful for laughing my head off with my best friends, late night phone calls with them, and snapchat. I love snapchat.<br />
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I'm thankful for Disney, because it makes me such a better person and reminds me to believe in magic every day.<br />
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I'm thankful for Harry Potter, because it teaches me about friendship, trials, errors, and love. All tied together with magic.<br />
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I'm thankful for school. I'm lucky enough to be able to go for five days a week, and learn something every day.<br />
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I'm thankful for big sweaters and combat boots. My uniform. Also, I'm really thankful for the person who invented the sock bun. Whoever you are, I love you.<br />
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I'm thankful for whoever puts those hilarious photos on pinterest. And I'm thankful for pinterest.<br />
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I'm thankful for my beautiful town. I live in a little slice of heaven that was put on this earth.<br />
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I'm thankful for sunsets, and sunrises.<br />
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I'm thankful for my church and the gospel. I love my religion more than anything.<br />
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I'm thankful for cat videos on Youtube.<br />
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I'm thankful for mascara and my curling wand.<br />
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I'm thankful for comfy slippers and footie pajamas.<br />
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I'm thankful for my talents that I have, and for the talents of others around me.<br />
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I'm thankful for this blog, and for all my readers who take time out of their day to read about my life.<br />
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Now, we can turn on Christmas music and not feel guilty for cheating on Thanksgiving =)<br />
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now for your cheesy quote fix of the day:<br />
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<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-5471444348465301112012-11-12T15:30:00.001-08:002012-11-12T15:30:23.278-08:00The Emily ApproachHave you ever met anyone that is just all-around happy? Someone that always has a smile on their face and a compliment on their lips. Someone who can make the worst situation the best. I know a few.<br />
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I'm very lucky to have tons of amazing role models in my ward and neighborhood, but today I'm going to talk about a specific lady in my life.<br />
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You guessed it: Emily.<br />
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Emily is by far the happiest person I know. She's always bouncing around, beaming like a little kid on Christmas morning. And when you're around her, you can't help but be happy also. It's a domino effect.<br />
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You're probably thinking, "Yeah. She's happy. Big whoop." But seriously. She's not just happy, she's delighted. She's chipper. She is gleeful.<br />
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Here's an example:<br />
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Once, she was over at my house talking to my mom. My mom was telling her about the laundry room renovations she was planning on doing someday. After she was done describing her plans, Emily looked at her with a huge grin and said,<br />
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"I just love knocking down walls. And renovating. And picking out paint colors. I love getting messy! It's just so fun!"<br />
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Who loves knocking down stuff?! Emily does.<br />
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And I just love that whenever anyone is around her, they can't frown. She's too light and cheerful. And I absolutely love that. I love that she gets excited about anything, big or small. So I've hatched a plan.<br />
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I'm calling it, The Emily Approach.<br />
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In this particular plan (which I have already been doing for a day and will report on in a minute) I will be striving to be like Emily. I will try to be happy about everything, and take lessons away from everything. I will try to be clean in what I expose myself to. I am going to smile all day. I am going to be grateful for what I have and try not to ask for unnecessary things.<br />
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So I'd like to report day one:<br />
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I thought of this plan the night before, so I woke up feeling ready to be happy! This was on Saturday. I got out of my bed and came upstairs to find the world covered in a beautiful blanket of snow. I was already excited about that. I do love snow. And then my mom said we were going to the mall. To look for mattresses. Not so excited about this one, but I did want to get out of the house, so I got dressed and off we drove. I got carsick on the way there, but I did not throw up! I was happy about that! But my happiness was tested on the car ride, where I learned that when we go to Florida, we're probably not going to Disney World, because we can't afford it.<br />
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I'll admit. I shed a few tears. Disney is my complete life and that was the part that I was looking forward to the most. I felt bad for myself. And I knew this is where my plan was going to have to save me. So I quickly dried my eyes, and thought about how I was lucky to even go on a vacation. I can go to the beach, or swim in the pool and I still get to go to Harry Potter World. I had no room to complain. None at all. And I'm only fifteen, I still have plenty of time to go to Disney World. It'll all be okay.<br />
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The next time my happiness was tested was at Macy's. I saw this sweater. This beautiful sweater. But then I reminded myself that I wasn't going to ask for anything. Because I am grateful for what I have. So I took a deep breath, pulled my own sweater that I was wearing around me tighter, and walked away.<br />
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Soon, my mom and grandma were busy in their own little world of shopping, and I was determined not to ask for anything. Not one little thing. I have enough clothes, and I don't need anymore. But it got really hard with my mom and grandma showing me all these items, so I decided to walk around the mall by myself just for fun.<br />
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This part was hard too. I got a lot of weird looks. What teenage girl goes shopping by herself? A loser? A loner? Does she smell bad? The answer is no. So whenever I was met with a weird look, I returned it with a smile, which got me an even weirder look.<br />
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And after walking around for a while, I finally went home, exhausted from my day of being happy.<br />
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Stay tuned to see how this works out.<br />
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and just for kicks:<br />
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<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-55179474409107609852012-11-05T12:04:00.000-08:002012-11-05T12:04:05.765-08:00write something.let's give a hand to Pinterest for inspiring me to blog this weekend.<br />
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found this and decided to write.</div>
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Here's the 411 (what the heck does that mean? 411? It makes no sense.) in English, we had to write about our names, how we got our names, what they mean to us, etc. And I was really proud of mine. But, I really really hate sharing my work in front of the class, because everyone else in there is like Shakespeare. Their words are so much more beautiful than mine, and I am so jealous of all of their writing abilities. Seriously. Whenever they share something, I just want to cry from the beauty of it all. Their words hold so much meaning and loveliness. It blows my mind. It's totally crazy how these sophomores can write such beautiful things. I gotta stop ranting about this, but I wish you could just read their pieces of writing. Then you'd understand.<br />
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So in class I basically feel like a cavewoman compared to Einstein. And that is why I never share anything in class. But I have been forcing myself too. I need to get over that uncomfortable-ness that I feel when I share what I write. It's not the actual sharing, it's the content.<br />
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Here's an example: I write, "I walked to the red door."<br />
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They write: "Completely breathless, I ran to the red door. The red reminded me of warmth, and love that I once had known, but was lost now."<br />
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So I refrained from sharing my name memoir to the class, although I was really really proud of it. So I'm sharing it here, where I'm not compared to anyone, where no one is forced to listen to me, and where I am completely comfortable and in my element. Here we go.<br />
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Emmari. It's a fancy name, meant for someone sophisticated. I, am not sophisticated. My name feels too big for me, like a a hand me down sweater.<br />
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My mom once told me that Emmari mean "wonderful." But to teachers, classmates and random people on the street, it means "name that I can't pronounce."<br />
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Emmie seems a little more comfortable, smaller shoes to fill. Emmie is my every day name, one that everyone knows me by. It's the name on the top of my assignments, on the roll call, or doodled all over my notebook.<br />
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I love my name. On the first day of school, I'm always the one the teachers remember.<br />
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I didn't always like my name. When I was little, I would beg my parents to change it. I would try to get them to call me a different name. Like Jules. Yes, out of any name I chose Jules. One night, I was crying because I hated my name so much, and my mom came up with the nickname Mia. Emmari, Mia. It kinda made sense. But it lasted a whole two seconds before she called me Emmie again.<br />
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A lot of people call me something different. My little sister calls me Ommie. My old orthodontist called me Mari. (I still have no idea how she got that out of Emmie. Maybe EmMARI? I don't know)<br />
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I basically have three different names. On my learner's permit and other documents, I'm Emmeri. On my church records, and when I'm in trouble, I'm called Emmari (my mom decided to change the spelling of my name right after she wrote it on my birth certificate. Now I have to go through all these stupid steps to replace the e with an a. ugh). And my every day name is Emmie. The one that people know me by.<br />
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Maybe one day I'll become sophisticated and fill the big shoes of Emmari, but for now, Emmie is just fine.<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-21262400292067749792012-10-28T14:09:00.002-07:002012-10-28T14:09:30.919-07:00Talented.Ever since I started High School, I've been uber tired and just plain lazy. I've just been dead to the world. I go to school, do homework and eat. That's all my day consists of. I don't even blog after school anymore. I draft it at school, during computer tech. And my mom has been getting on my case about doing nothing. She's been telling me to find something that I want to do, and she'll put me in lessons. But I don't want to do anything. And I'm not particularly good at anything. I'm just kind of average all around.<br />
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I can ski on blue hills, I can sing fairly simple songs and I can talk to people with no problems. But I need something that I'm exceptional at. So I've come up with a list of my many talents. Here we go.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">1. I can eat two boxes of Tostinos Pizza rolls in one sitting.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2. I can pee faster than anyone that I know.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3. I am an excellent procrastinator.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">4. I've mastered the art of being able to fall asleep anywhere. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">5. I can put my hair in a messy bun in 10 seconds.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">#lazygirlprobs</span></div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-12046682512643896742012-10-26T16:31:00.001-07:002012-10-26T16:31:25.795-07:00Bountiful Dictionary. Today, I'm going to teach you an important lesson, one that you must know if you are not from my town and are reading my blog. I have a dictionary full of words (and how to pronounce them) for you to understand what I'm always talking about. I've gotten some emails asking what the heck am I saying, and I am here to help you!<br />
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Before we start with this dictionary, you have to know that you can't say your T's. For example: Mountain. If you're from Utah, you must pronounce it Mounain. No t. This applies to almost every word you can think of.</div>
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VL, <i>noun: </i>(Short for Virgin Lips) When a teenager in Bountiful has not kissed anyone besides a family member. When you kiss someone, you "lose" your VL (there's even a club. with T shirts).</div>
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Shoot, <i>verb: </i>A replacement for the popular cuss word. You can also use Shiz if you want to walk on the wild side, or the most commonly used, Crap.</div>
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Baller, <i>adj: </i>When something is awesome. Ex: Those shoes are baller! Seminary is baller!</div>
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RM, <i>adjective: </i>Returned Missionary, a spouse/boyfriend preferred by most Mormon Girls.</div>
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The Vard, <i>noun: </i>Bountiful Boulevard, a place where teenagers park their cars, blast music, and party on summer/warm nights. Partying can also occur during the fall.</div>
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The B, <i>noun: </i>A giant letter on our Mountain that symbolizes Bountiful High. A great view if you drive up there, and also a makeout spot.</div>
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Friday Night Lights, <i>noun: </i>Football games, reference to a popular TV show.</div>
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Keva, <i>noun: </i>A smoothie place located near BHS, where the drinks are delicious and you can get a slice of bread next door for 50 cents.</div>
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Rite Aide, <i>noun: </i>A store which every teen in Bountiful has been kicked out of.</div>
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Snow Days, <i>noun: </i>Don't exist. You go to school if there is five feet of snow on the ground. Case closed.</div>
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Skiing, <i>noun: </i>Almost everyone in Bountiful is an expert at it. We can teach you how to ski backwards.<br />
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The Holy War, <i>noun: </i>The annual football game between BYU and UofU. Utah is divided, with the occasional Utah State straggler.<br />
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The Spiral, <i>noun: </i>A spiral staircase at Bountiful High, where you make out.<br />
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True Brave, <i>noun: </i>You can achieve this status by either: a, running around the track naked, or b, kissing on the spiral. If you do both, then you are a Chief.<br />
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WX vs BHS: a football game that everyone looks forward to, because BHS has beat WX for over 20 years straight. (if we lose tonight, just know that this was written before the game)<br />
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Seminary: an hour and a half nap.<br />
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Snowpants: an article of clothing that everyone has in their closets.<br />
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AN IMPORTANT PRONUNCIATION ANNOUNCEMENT: You must pronounce your B's like P's. Example: Jacop.<br />
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I hope I have helped you understand my life and my Bountiful slang.<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-3237811814401287552012-10-14T11:26:00.003-07:002012-10-14T11:26:32.493-07:00a few of my favorite things.Here is a post dedicated to sharing my favorite youtube videos that I've found these past few weeks. So here you go.<br />
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This is just possibly the sweetest thing I've ever seen.</div>
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The first time I saw this (last night) I fell off of my chair laughing.<br />
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I don't think you can watch this without smiling or laughing.<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-39392820377978147732012-10-10T15:00:00.001-07:002012-10-10T15:00:42.364-07:00I am a butterfly.I am a butterfly. I am free. I am beautiful. I fly. I come and go, just as shadows and stars do. You can't tie me down. I am like the wind. I am innocent and pure.<br />
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Let's start at the beginning of this journey, shall we?</div>
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When I started seventh grade, my self esteem and self worth were at rock bottom. I was awkward. I was sad. I felt so alone. I was friendless, because I was shy. And when I did talk to people, my negativity drove them away. I think that I was so depressed because my main goal was to be "popular." I thought that the life of expensive clothes, cell phones, boyfriends and Jr. High parties seemed amazing. I was so jealous of that one girl that all the guys liked. The one that wore all the new Anthropologie items, while I was shopping at TJ Maxx and Ross. I pushed my quirks aside and tried to shove myself into this "popular girl" mold, which my body didn't fit. But, when I started hanging out with the "popular" kids, I thought I was happy. But now looking back, I see an uphappy little girl trying so hard to please people that didn't even really like her, or want to be her friend. </div>
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This is how I ended seventh grade. "Popular." And it didn't feel as good as I thought it would feel. I found myself in uncomfortable situations. Kids watching rated R movies, talking about inappropriate things, not acting like seventh graders. And I wasn't even ready to give up sleeping with my baby blanket, let alone talk about sex and other things. (and I still sleep with my baby blanket. it's okay Harley does too.)<br />
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The summer before eighth grade I was miserable. Calling my dad to come pick me up when my friends were watching R rated movies, crying to my mom about how I couldn't stay out until 1:00 in the morning, doing things that I don't even want to do now.<br />
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(Quick side note: I'm not saying I was completely depressed and miserable for all of my Jr. High experience. I was actually quite happy. But now that I've felt the love of real friends, and real love for myself, I just wish that I could've felt that earlier)<br />
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So, walking into eighth grade, I was miserable. I was confused about who I was, and what my values were. I started to compare myself to others. I never felt pretty enough, talented enough or smart enough. Things got worse as my "friends" started to ignore me. Did things without telling me. Left me out. The weight of the world was piling high on my little 13-year old shoulders, and I was about to collapse. And no one knew about my heavy load because I never told anyone anything. I kept all my concerns to myself.<br />
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I have to admit, I was a pretty good actress.<br />
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I think I hit rock bottom near the end of eighth grade. I was watching a movie at someone's house, and everyone had paired off. There I was, sitting in the corner of that L-shaped couch, feeling sick to my stomach. No one would sit by me, or talk to me. I finally went outside and sat on the swings, tears flowing freely. I usually don't cry. Especially in public. I hated (and still hate) showing signs of weakness. But there I was, sobbing on the swings. I called my mom and asked her to come pick me up. I decided I was done with these people. I was done feeling so inferior, and I was done feeling bad about myself.<br />
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I think the thing that mostly pushed me over the edge was when I called one of my friends that wasn't there. He talked to me and listened to me, and none of those kids inside would ever do that. They wouldn't listen to me cry and let it out. They would tell me to shut up and grow up. I realized that friends are supposed to make you feel uplifted, not dragging you down. So I was done. I didn't hate those kids. I still don't. I get along with some of them today, some of us are friends. But then, us being friends was like swimming in toxic waste. Drowning it it. So I cut myself off of the "popular" kids. No, I didn't stand on the stage at school dance and announce it. It was done quietly. I just slipped out of their lives.<br />
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I'll admit, it was lonely. But that pressure was off of my chest, and I felt so much lighter. I wasn't the girl that went out every Saturday night. I spent a few solitary nights in my PJs watching Pixar. And you know what? That's perfectly okay. The more I spent time alone, I got to know myself a little better.<br />
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I'm not saying that I looked in the mirror and had a full on conversation. But being alone for a little while gave me time to realize what I wanted, what kind of person I wanted to be, and what I felt comfortable with. I didn't need compliments or boys trying to get my attention to feel good about myself. I didn't need those new clothes, hair highlights, that high end makeup. I was perfectly happy with my TJ Maxx sweater and my Covergirl mascara. Still am.<br />
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As eighth grade ended, I looked back and realized that I had made so many new friends, and had so many experiences. Experiences that I couldn't have had if I were tying myself down. I felt great about myself, and about others.<br />
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Entering ninth grade, I was probably as confident as a person could be. I finally let my crazy personality come out, and I think I shocked a lot of people. But I was happy as a clam. I wore my Harry Potter robes to school, talked as loud as I wanted, and just had a grand time at school. I loved ninth grade, because I was finally ME. With no masks. I would proudly tell my friends I bought my shirt at Plato's closet. I would proudly proclaim my love for Lord of the Rings. Ninth grade was filled with so many new and amazing experiences and friends.<br />
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Then the best summer ever happened to me.<br />
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This last summer was the best summer ever. In the history of mankind. I've already blogged and blogged about it, but I'll tell you again. The Jazz Band Trip, Trek, Girl's Camp, making new friend, it was just plain perfect.<br />
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This summer I realized that friends are fun, and nice, and non-backstabbing, and everything good in this world. Those kids changed my whole perspective on friendship, and love for my friends. And I love them so much for that. I would go on and on about how much I love them, but I won't. Because then they'll think I'm creepy. And because I've already exclaimed how much I love them.<br />
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And now we're here at the present. Me, loving life, being a little quieter than last year. A little more humble. But now I'm the happiest I've ever been. Change is good. Change is very good.<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-25558140413970922382012-10-08T09:22:00.002-07:002012-10-08T09:22:54.821-07:00the challenge is over!!!so.. i've kind of been slacking off. and it's my last day of the blog challenge!!! yay! So I have three for you today.<br />
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Day 27, what is your favorite feature (on yourself)?<br />
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I really like my hands... is that weird? I have really, really abnormally tiny hands and I just like them. I also like my nose and freckles. I've been told I have a cute nose from time to time. I'll take it.<br />
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Day 28, what is your least favorite feature (on yourself)?<br />
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I have two. I hate my arms. I have way long arms, and in pictures I look deformed. There's those girls with the cute little arms, and then me, my fingers touching my toes. I also really don't like my teeth. They're straight from my braces, but they're not as white as I want them to be. And I hate whitening them, because it hurts so bad.<br />
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Day 29, what do you think people misunderstand about you?<br />
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I know a lot of people that think I'm really self-centered. And they're absolutely right. I'm a teenage girl, I have an excuse. When I feel uncomfortable, or I don't know what to say, I start to talk about myself. I've been working on it though.<br />
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Day 30, list three things you hope to be remembered for.<br />
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1. My awesome taste in music.<br />
2. How I laugh at everything, everywhere, anytime.<br />
3. My zest for life.<br />
<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-67472344294525863412012-10-06T19:09:00.002-07:002012-10-06T19:09:44.663-07:00I know it. I live it. I love it.Well. That time of year is here again. GENERAL CONFERENCE TIME! <div>
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For all you non-LDS members out there, General Conference is when you spend two day listening to church leaders, and laying around in your PJs.</div>
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Most teenagers don't like conference. They can't hang out with friends, they have to spend all day at home, blah blah blah. But I love it. LOVE IT. I look forward to it every year. It's almost better than Christmas. I love to be able to not get dressed, eat all day, and listen to amazing talks.</div>
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And today was probably one of the best conference sessions ever. They've changed the minimal age to go on an LDS mission. Girls can now go at age 19, and boys can go at age 18 (before it was 21 for women and 19 for boys), and this has completely changed my life.</div>
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I've always, always, always wanted to go on a mission. I've read my old journals and I write "8 more years until I can go on my mission!" "7 years!"</div>
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And now I can go in about four years. FOUR YEARS. I'm dying. I'm so excited. When it was first announced, I couldn't talk I was so excited.</div>
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Everyone else is excited too. Texts are flying my way, my facebook news feed is filled with it. And I love it. I love being surrounded by people that are so willing to go serve. I'm one of the luckiest people alive.</div>
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So now, tonight in my journal, I will write, "FOUR MORE YEARS!" I really can't believe this happened. Wow. Wow. Wow.</div>
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Also, another good quote from our amazing friend Ann Dibb who gave an amazing talk:</div>
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<img alt=""I am a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it."- quoted by Ann M. Dibb #ldsconf #lds #mormons #generalconference" height="400" src="http://media-cache0.pinterest.com/upload/238620480227882347_bp2BhkLX_c.jpg" width="309" /></div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-8841138547665511582012-10-04T09:31:00.001-07:002012-10-04T09:31:50.918-07:00i hate school.here I am, sitting in computer tech. it's only second period and I've had probably the worst day ever. EVER. I'm not excited for what's to come. the only good thing is that I figured out how to get on youtube, which means whole imagine dragons album is being listened to because i'm too cheap to buy it.<br />
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since we have free time, blog challenge (that I'm almost done with!)<br />
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Day 26 was a dumb question, so I'm telling you what's in my backpack.<br />
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three sets of headphones<br />
a pink sharpie<br />
lotion<br />
chapstick<br />
burts bees lip gloss<br />
my phone<br />
hair ties<br />
bobby pins<br />
random food<br />
my binders<br />
notebook<br />
pencils<br />
my schedule<br />
my planner<br />
pennies<br />
a dollar<br />
my lunch<br />
a calculator.<br />
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Don't worry, it's super organized. Because I'm OCD.<br />
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So, I'm actually planning some BIG posts to come. I've already drafted one, and in my opinion, it's amazing. I love it. So BIG things are coming! Be excited with me!<br />
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<br />Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-27604697939035912822012-10-03T15:45:00.001-07:002012-10-03T15:45:53.326-07:00I'm a slacker.I haven't been keeping up on this blog challenge thing. Life just kinda got in the way. So I guess I get to do four today. Joy.<br />
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<u>Day 22. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?</u><br />
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In five years, I'll be twenty. I do not see myself getting married like most Utah girls. I'll probably be in college, working my tail off. Maybe having an RM boyfriend (Returned Missionary for all of those who don't speak Utahn). Probably sleep deprived. Probably wearing sweats. Living away from home. Probably carrying the iPhone 7, listening to Taylor Swift's 10th album. It sounds like a pretty good life.<br />
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<u>Day 23: list your top five hobbies and why you love them.</u><br />
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1. Blogging. I love to write and express myself. I love to just spew out my thoughts and feelings. I also love how if I write something I don't like, I can change it. I wish words were like that.<br />
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2. Ribsticking. However you spell it. It's like a skateboard, but way harder/cooler. It took me five days straight to learn how to not fall. I spent my whole summer perfecting it, and I am now the master. I can ribstick, rub my tummy, and pat my head at the same time.<br />
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3. Shopping. Yes, I consider this a hobby. I'm really good at finding deals and putting outfits together when I'm not being lazy. I'd say dressing myself on a budget is an important skill.<br />
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4. Uke/piano/singing. I love making music. I love it. My whole family does. You can always hear a song in our home. Either from our mouths, instruments or radio. We love music.<br />
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5. Picking good music. I LABOR over my songs. I'm so picky about what I listen to. So I consider this a hobby.<br />
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<u>Day 24. This one was dumb, so I'm just listing another 10 facts about myself.</u><br />
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1. I LOVE to eat.<br />
2. I love my phone.<br />
3. I have the personality of a teenage boy.<br />
4. I love hearing people sing.<br />
5. I talk about myself A LOT.<br />
6. I'm very considerate toward other people.<br />
7. I love to sing.<br />
8. I have big dreams. One of those dreams is swimming in a pool of Jel-O.<br />
9. I sometimes wonder who would come to my funeral if I died.<br />
10. I love people.<br />
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<u>Day 25. If you could hang out with anyone in history, who would it be?</u><br />
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It's a tie between John Lennon and Audrey Hepburn. Do you know how AWESOME that'd be? ahh. I'd die.<br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-80801458455379922562012-09-30T19:57:00.001-07:002012-09-30T19:57:53.306-07:00Opinions please.So... I need my readers opinions.<br />
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In the past few weeks, my ratings have skyrocketed. I'm in different countries now, and that's amazing.<br />
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So I've been considering making money off of my blog.<br />
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Will you love me? Hate me? Won't care? Is it a bad idea?<br />
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Because let's face it, I'm just teenage girl with no job. And this could be a good income for me. Not enough to support a family, but enough to stop running my parents dry.<br />
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So please, tell me what I should do. I know I've done these question things before, and hardly anyone responds, but I know you're there. I can track how many views my blog gets. So tell me, even if you don't think I'll like it (just use nice words).<br />
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what should i do?Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-53428453769374220672012-09-29T10:52:00.001-07:002012-09-29T10:52:38.655-07:00Dear haters...So, before I do my blog post of the day, I have to express something.<br />
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I blog for myself. I'm so glad that people like it and read it, but it's for me and my benefit. So if everyone stops reading, if I have no pageviews, if all of my followers unfollow me, I will still write.<br />
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That being said, people's negative comments won't phase me. You can write whatever you want, but if it's negative, I don't need that. I don't care if you don't like me or my blog. Any negative comments or messages will be deleted immediately. I don't need to be seeing that on something that I've worked so hard on. So you can call my a hypocrite, an idiot, a loser, but I DON'T CARE. If you don't like this blog, leave. If you don't like me, don't be around me or read this. I'm not trying to impress you. Simple as that. And don't talk crap about my blog to my friends. It always gets back to me. Always.<br />
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Anyway. Day 21: If you could have one superpower, what would it be?<br />
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Have you ever had dreams about flying? Where you are completely free and you don't have a care in the world? Where you are just floating on happiness, and it feels amazing. I want to fly so bad. And I've always wanted to. The first time I went on an airplane, I was so disappointed. It was basically like being in a car.<br />
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But this summer, I flew.<br />
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Not even kidding. My dream came true. And it came true at Magic Mountain.<br />
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Before I went there, Annie was telling me about this ride that made you feel like you were flying. She told me how amazing it was and how I absolutely HAD to go on it. She never told me the name though, or she did tell me and I forgot. So when I got there, I was on a mission. I would find this flying amazing ride.<br />
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So we went on tons and tons of rollercoasters, and had a grand old time. But we only had about an hour left until we had to go, and I still hadn't found this magical ride. In despair, I looked up and saw this really tall rollercoaster. The people were angled horizontally, and they were all screaming and laughing with delight. I knew this was my ride. The line was super long, but I dragged all of my friends on it, and we waited for about 30 minutes. I seriously could not contain my excitement. Stockton was as excited as I was. So when we finally got on, we were shifted horizontally, and up we went. And when we went downhill, I was literally flying.<br />
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My dream came true, and it was probably the best day of my life. They take pictures on the rollercoasters, and my face was like a little child's during their first time at Disneyland. Pure. Joy.<br />
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Magic Mountain is where dreams come true.Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-1814880242293505102012-09-28T08:53:00.002-07:002012-09-28T08:53:48.638-07:00Day 20.Day 20: Describe 3 significant incidents in your childhood.<br />
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I was a strange child, and these are just funny stories. So here ya go.<br />
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<u><span style="font-size: large;">1. The story of the push.</span></u><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I was in kindergarten. In my class, we had these stations, and only four people could be in a station at a time. So me and my three little guy friends were happily playing in the Lincoln Log station, when all of a sudden a boy with a mop of dark curly hair came over. I didn't really know him, all I knew that he was mean to all the girls. Anyway, he came up to me and yelled at me for "stealing" all of his friends, and I better get out of that station and go play house. (Just a quick fact, I was a crazy tomboy until I was about 12). But I wasn't going to give in to this kid, even though he was probably three heads taller than me. I stood my ground and told HIM to go play house. He didn't like that very much, and shoved me down. I stood up and slapped that kid hard, and all my little friends clapped for me. I got sent in the time-out corner, but it was oh-so worth it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>2. The story of the Backstreet Boys. </u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This isn't actually in my memory, I'm just telling you what an awesome child I was. When I was about two or three, I knew all of the words to "I want it that way" by the Backstreet Boys. So whenever I went to my relatives house, they would ask me, "What way do you want it?" And I would happily reply "I WANT IT THAAAT WAAAAY!" This continued until I was about 5, but I got too embarrassed to do it anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>3. The story of Preston's flight.</u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have this backyard neighbor named Preston. We've been friends since the day I moved to Bountiful. And (as mentioned before) I was a crazy daredevil tomboy. So one day, we were on his swings and I decided to stand on top of the swing, and flip myself over. It was pretty impressive, and I have no idea how I accomplished this. But Preston was too afraid to try it, because he was a rational kid and probably didn't want to break his neck. But I kept taunting him, and calling him a baby. He reluctantly stood on top of the swing, and tried to thrust his body forward. But he pulled back, and accidentally let go of the swing. I swear, he got like 20 feet of air. It was crazy. He landed about 15 yards away from the swing set. I ran over to congratulate him on his flight, but then I realized that he was crying. And he screamed for his mom, who promptly sent me home. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry this picture is so huge, the computers at the school are retarded and won't let me resize it. Also, forgive the hair. I would never let my mom do it.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-8421861613813919622012-09-27T18:24:00.002-07:002012-09-27T18:24:48.558-07:00Days 18&19So... groundbreaking news. My blog has reached France, Spain, Canada and England! Holy cow! I did not know that this was going to go so far, and I'm so thankful to all of my readers.<br />
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Day 18: What is the most difficult thing you've had to forgive.<br />
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There's one incident. But sadly, I'm not going to say on this blog. Sorry, but it's actually really personal and I'm still not over it. Don't worry, all is forgiven, but me and this person's friendship will never ever be the same. Ever. Maybe one day, when I'm thirty (if I still even have this blog) I'll tell you all about it.<br />
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Day 19: If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?<br />
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This is going to sound really, really lame. And I know I'm moving away someday, I know I have to leave here for a while, but I love the Bountiful Bubble. It keeps me secure. It's a pretty clean place, with little raunchiness going on. Sure, there's some, but I'm pretty sure this is the most Mormon populated place on the planet (say that five times fast). And I love it here. I really do. I love living on a mountain. I love seeing the temple everywhere I go. I especially love fall here. I love going to Smith's and seeing someone I know. I love how beautiful this place is. I really do. Even though there are flaws, and many of them, this place is home to me. It's my little corner of the universe.<br />
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So now, here is the best part of this post. I've been collecting hilarious pictures just to show on this blog. I have many, and all of them have either made me cry, snort or involved a drink coming out of my nose. Just so you know. So without further ado:<br />
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thanks for reading =)</div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-20069036963149833672012-09-25T15:07:00.000-07:002012-09-25T15:07:02.926-07:00Day 17Day seventeen: something you wish you were great at.<br />
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this is probably the easiest post ever...<br />
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I wish I were great at dancing. I am so uncoordinated. I am clumsy. I've probably tripped up the stairs three times this week. I have the bruises as proof. And every week, I watch Dance Moms and I dream of being able to do what those little girls do. But it's just not in my cards. I'm still obsessed with dance, I just can't. So I admire it from afar.<br />
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So if you can dance, then dance. If you have dance pictures on Facebook, I've probably looked at them and gasped at how amazing you are. So keep dancing for me, the girl who has two left feet. </div>
Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-77797472705432146272012-09-24T08:52:00.000-07:002012-09-24T08:52:34.212-07:00Day 16Guess who has an hour of free time in computer tech? This means blogging! And Pinterest! And Pandora! I love the internet!<br />
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Day 16: what are your five greatest accomplishments?<br />
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Because I'm so young, these are going to sound really self centered and lame. But they're big to me.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. getting to be SBO President.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. gaining my testimony.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. learning how to play the ukelele. I was SO happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Gaining my self confidence that I lacked for so long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. Finding out who I am, and who my real friends are.</span></div>
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8443074378910258662.post-55604646704952776642012-09-23T21:05:00.002-07:002012-09-23T21:05:24.933-07:00days 13, 14 and 15. Let me just explain why I haven't blogged in the past couple of days.<br />
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Reason 1: in computer tech, we didn't have any free time! What the heck?!</div>
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Reason 2: it was the weekend. still is, but it's sunday. so I hung out with friends and partied it up.</div>
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Reason 3: ... I don't have a third reason.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 13, name 5 weaknesses you have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. I'm stubborn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. I'm kind of a wimp. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. I have a big ego. I think I'm the greatest sometimes, and I come across cocky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. I'm lazy. I would rather sit in my bed looking at funny cat pictures on the internet than exercise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. I get to attached to everything and everyone that comes into my life. I always need to remind myself that change is good, and that letting go of some old toxic friends is going to be good for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 14, list five strengths you have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. I'm stubborn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. I'm considerate. I'm not gonna lie, I'm a really good friend and I will do anything for you. Because I know how it feels to have friends treat you like crap, and I'm never, EVER going to make someone else feel the way I did. Ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. I have really, really good taste in music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. I am smart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. I am funny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Day 15, if you were an animal, what would you be and why?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I would be a hummingbird, because I'm little and I would love to fly.</span><br />
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Emmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08382374989046778043noreply@blogger.com0