Today…, yes that is the most cliché beginning to my post, I think I shall start with that.
“It’s time to wake-up”, my mom calls from outside my bedroom door. (Because I lock it for safety in the night. Don’t judge me. You probably haven’t spent many-a-night up until 3 a.m. because of noises to hideous to mention. Night is terrifying.) I shoot up out of my bed. ” AHHHH, I’M LATE FOR CHOIR!!!” After a few outfit fails, parents wails, and time-conscious bails, I made it there: 25 min. late. That’s what you get for trying to get a teenager out of bed early on a Sunday morning. (Even though I am legally an adult, physically, I am still a teenager). I hurriedly rush up to the stands and wobble into the children section of the choir. (Apparently I am now not immune to embarrassment anymore, and it would have felt weird to just go up to the middle.) As I tower over the little 8-year-old, and squint at the words, my voice cracking from mornings fight, I feel something. I feel a sense of belonging and a sense of non-belonging. It was as if I should have been there, and shouldn’t have a the same time. It took me one song to get back into my routine and I stealthily (by stealthily I mean I clonked my shoes over to the folder table, slid the plastic folder over the wood like a hockey puck over ice. I wobbled back over, still not immune to mornings effect, and continued to sing the song designated for today.
While I patiently waited an eternity and 1/2 for my family to arrive at church, I wandered the paths inside the buildings, casually staring at rooms filled with bustling children, sleeping fathers, and crying mothers. Then I recognized someone, the former Bishop’s son had returned from his mission. However, he was not talking to someone. Being the intense socialite, mormonite family he came from, I was astonished that he was not chattering away or even texting away (I’m serious, I didn’t see any phone, and this used to be the king of joking off in church.) While I was noticing this, a fellow choir member and I chatted away about the music, and took me away from my thought. After a minute or two of explaining, she left, and I settled to sit on the stage in the back of the sacrament meeting room. That plan of action felt awkward, especially with the short skirt I was wearing, and one of the guys up front looking straight at the back. (That is the game plan for most speakers, stare at the back, try to not look painfully awkward, and speed through the words like you were running from the cops.) My family finally arrived, and didn’t leave enough space for me to sit by them, so I resorted to sit by myself. A family I had known a few years earlier sat on the side of me, and we sang the opening hymn. The mother told me my voice was gorgeous. Yep, that didn’t put any pressure on me [!] I think I took my hat off for 7 prayers, and ended up messing up my un-washed greasy, long hair like the animals of the forest. Good thing I had a hat to cover the top. Eventually it was time for me to sing, so I strided up the walkway, and crossed in front of 100-200 people, and arrived up front. A woman told me that I looked cute today. (Despite my attempts at a disheveled outfit) and I looked forward at our patient, decked-out-in-blue, director. In a flash the notes came flowing out of my mouth, and I was singing praises to the Lord. I hurried back to my seat in sort-of a trance-like happy, lifted spirit. I watched the babies on each side playing. There was a 4, 3, 2, and early infant. Each of them were so adorable, and each of hem were distracting me from paying attention to the talk. With sacrament was about to draw to a close, I got out my hymn book to sing the closing song. When I showed it to the woman next to me, she insisted “I’m fine, I just like listening to your pretty voice”. That wold put me on the brink of nervousness, and I almost cracked, but I didn’t.
I arrived at sunday school with Sharol because she was in choir today and we had talked earlier. We came to a class with chairs in several rows, and despite the laboring task , we put them in the right arrangement [!] Then, came one of the hottest guys. *Sigh* Tall, dark, and handsome. He had deep blue eyes and black hair, he was taller than Brandon (who is pretty tall, I am just using him as a measuring stick), he played Tennis, and his name was Chase. Sharol instantly recognized him, I had no clue who he was. I found out that he was from Texas and he was visiting Erica Blount’s Step-Dad, otherwise known as his dad. I was enamored. Sharol told a story with her and Brandon, and Eric about lip balm, and I worked hard to look like I wasn’t looking at him, while still looking at him. Then Brother Palmer and Ryan Johnson strutted in. Ryan just sat and listened for a while. He only left when I made it awkward (I guess anyways). Heres the thing: Brother Palmer likes to run. He and a few of the other Dad’s in the ward have formed a running club. They just ran a half-marathon. I still beat his time. His was 1:59 for 13.1 miles. Mine was 1:53 for 13.6 miles. WIN. Then he said that he was going to run a full one. Then he mentioned that he was going to do one in Utah. I got all excited and asked him if it was the Utah Valley One. He said, yea I am probably not going to run that one. I guess it is wrong to be excited, because that is when Ryan left. (The son of the mother I sat by in sacrament). We learned about being good shepherds, and I learned that Chase is hot (Lol, I learned the lesson annnnd that. 😉
After Sunday School finished, we stood outside to talk for a while. I saw an opportunity to talk to him, so I went for it. Unfortunately I made the painful mistake of assuming. He had talking with Brother Reid about it in class, so I thought that he played football. He said that he didn’t and I could see that was the wrong move. Quickly I rebounded and asked him if he played any sports. He said that he played tennis. I said that I have a friend who plays that. I asked how long he was in town for, and he said one week. Then sharol interrupted and asked if he wanted to make cookies with them for Brother Reid (Since he had knee surgery). He said yes, and she said that she should text him. I quickly asked sharol if I could come, and she said yes, and that she would text me.
We got in there late, and Sharol wasn’t able to conduct the opening. We then separated into classes. Our Laurel class was actually pretty big for that little room. Right before the lesson, I told sharol “Chase is sooooo cute” and she agreed. We had a lesson, and it talked about what we do in our free time. Ironic that it should be about that because that is what I am probably wasting now. (Jk, it counts as a journal). Anyways, Sharol said that she likes to look in the mirror and practice being interviewed by the Jay Leno show. That was kinda funny. We had a good lesson, and there is not much more to say about it.
I didn’t follow Sharol and Haley out to the halls to talk with the boys and maybe that was a mistake. I waited in the car (Scarfing down the candy that Sis. Jones gave me for my birthday …2 weeks late, jk, I don’t hold grudges, totally jk). I told mom that Sharol might text me, and I might go make cookies. We went home soon and I straightened my hair if I needed to go immediately. I located my phone and there were no texts on it yet. Being the patient person that I am, I played on the computer for an hour or two (by play I mean: get in religious and political debates on forums and discussions). I ate my dinner, then it started to rain. Faster, the water came down. Racing up stairs, found my umbrella, made my food, and ate it outside. I came back inside and played on the computer some more. My mom continually nagged for me to write my essay, so I figured out a way to convince her to let me have the house to myself, and I wrote an awesome paper. By then I knew it was off. I had texted Sharol and she said that nobody could come =(. I eventually wrote my paper and rewrote another paper and organized my backpack. Now I am finishing this off and I will take a shower, clean my room, prepare for the week, and go to bed. Well, I better be off then, I have a lot to do.