Well this is new...

Today was a grrrrrreat day.

Not only because BYU won. Obvi.
But something else happened during the game.

During the first half, as the game was not going so good, I started just staring at the marching band, because that's what I do. They were playing a song - and I don't even know which song - and something happened within me. The sousas were rockin out as usual. The band was partyin. They looked like they were having so much fun. And I know they were.

I've always been a marching band geek, but I just thought it would end at college because that's not what I wanted to do with my life. And then tonight, some switch turned on in my brain and it went something like this:

'....I think I wanna be in the BYU marching band....'


It's time to trust my instincts

Lately I've been in the:

"drive around town with friends and a jamba in hand singing along with and belting out the lyrics to your favorite inspirational musical"


Well it has only happened like, ONCE, this week. But I'd like to do it summore.
Maybe I should make a Facebook event, chyea?


Lost in transition

Sometimes I feel like my friends in Texas have completely forgotten about me.

"So me and Autumn-"
"Oh. Right. Well she moved in after you left. Anyways..."

Sometimes I feel like my Utah friends don't really know or care about me because I wasn't apart of their childhood.

"Remember in Mrs. So and so's class when we did that one cool thing and me and her used to be best friends?"
"No. I didn't go to Canyon Crest."
"Oh. Rock Canyon?"
"I didn't go to elementary here."
"Whoops. Sorry."

But whatevs. I always have Yoda.


Rise and shout

     Once upon a time there was a girl, Nicole, who, at one point in her life, was 4 or 5 years old.
Her family once again took the long drive to the foreign land of Utah to visit her favoritest familiy members in the whole world, especially her Grandma. They arrived, settled in, and, as usual, took the annual trip to the magnificent BYU Bookstore in the Wilkinson center. Nicole was an expert when it came to the BYU Bookstore. She knew exactly where the clothes, the candy, and, of course, the childrens books were. Every year, she was allowed to pick one book she wanted. And it was always the hardest decision, as she loved reading.

Nicole picked her book, took a walk around her favorite, beautiful college campus bookstore, and returned to Grandma's house with her new reading material in hand. While sitting upon her favorite bed and reading her book, she began to cry. As silent sobs came to her eyes, her dad found his confused daughter and asked what was wrong.

"I wanna go to BYU but I don't know how."

"Do you like school?


"Do you get good grades?"


"Then you'll be fine."

so what became of the girl who loved school? the girl who thrived on getting good grades?

When did the girl who always had good grades and never practiced her clarinet turn into the girl who would rather practice her clarinet than do a silly math assignment?


the path less traveled.

I've been thinking lately, do I really know what I want in and out of  life?
do I really know who I am?

People know what they want for me, but have I decided? Am I  okay with that?

Yesterday, for example, in my Early Childhood Education Class, the kids in the Timpview Preschool came and we taught them for the first time. The reason I took this class was to see if I even want to be a teacher. And after one day with the kids, I'm learning a lot about myself.

I wasn't the lead teacher, but I did help a lot. And I thought I knew the "proper" way to handle children. But today, handling 20 preschoolers, I found myself just standing there with a blank look on my face thinking, "I have no idea what to do."

I love the class and I love the kids, I just don't know if that's what I really want to do with my life.


Have you ever felt this way?

I think I could be in "love" with a boy. Except I've never even been on a date with him.

I think he's my type. Except I don't even know what my type is.

I think he might be interested. Except that's just his personality and it wouldn't matter anyways.

I think....I think I'll just go read my scriptures now.


Incompatible. It don't matter though

Why do I always attract the wrong boys?

okay that was mean.
I meant why do I always attract boys that make things 10,547,892 times more awkward than need be.

I know I said I was on a boy fast, but that doesn't mean I can't look, aye?
3 specific boys come to mind. But that'll never happen. Ha, Nicole, keep dreaming.

Like I was telling my favorite person on the whole planet yesterday, I just want a normal guy. But that won't ever happen until I'm in college. I just want to be in college now. Now. Please. Thanks.
Sometimes I think I'm more mature than I really am.


United we stand

*WARNING: this is slightly long. Get over it. I love America.

Today as we remember that fateful day 10 years ago, I reflect on my own experiences:

September 11th, 2001
     It started out as any other day for most Americans. But as a 7 year old second grader in Texas, the highlight of my day was to be the arrival of my grandparents after school from California. Nothing was out of the ordinary for my class; our teachers didn't tell us anything.
     All day I had been antsy. I wanted to go home and see Grandma and Granpa. I would tell anyone who would listen of my grandparents planned visit, even my teacher, Ms. Sirois. Now I can only imagine what she was thinking at the time as I have no doubt she had to have known what was happening in New York. Still to this day I don't know how she kept her cool in front of a class of 7 year olds.

     The rest of the school day was a blur until the moment I stepped off the school bus. The bus let me off at the entrance of our cul-de-sac and I bounded off to my house, expecting a big bear hug from my grandpa's arms. My best friend and neighbor, Sandra, was slower to emerge and I left her in the dust. But halfway to my house, I noticed my mom talking to Sandra's mom at their front door. Immediately I knew something was wrong and my path veered towards them. I began thinking out loud,
"Where were Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Were they inside?"
"Why weren't they outside to greet me?"
"Were we picking them up from the airport?"
     Eventually, Sandra caught up and our mothers, to the best of their ability, tried to explain what had happened to America to two young elementary school girls. After the realization that my grandparents were in fact not at my house in Texas, I started actually listenting to my mom.
Foreign words popped out:



           World Trade Center


     What did that mean? As a child, I couldn't understand why someone would intentionally run a plane into a building to kill people. Then the only thought that went through my head was, "My grandparents are dead." They were supposed to fly in on a plane and planes had crashed. And now I was scared. I didn't know what was going on. My mom took me inside and my dad was watching TV. He was a pilot and they had shut down the local Air Force Base he worked at. They allowed me to watch the videos of the towers. I remember seeing smoke and flames and people falling out of windows. And tears began to stream from my eyes. I couldn't control my young emotions and I was scared. So I cried.

At that age, I obviously didn't comprehend what the towers stood for. But now I understand so much more and that it was a symbol of our nations freedom. I'm old enough to fully understand that America is the greatest country on Earth and WHY it needs to stay that way. I don't say that because of pride or arrogance. I say that because that's the way it is. We help other countries become free to make the world a better place for all. WE are the beacon and shining example to the rest.

no one should ever be making apologies for America.

Now that the band is putting together the Pearl Harbor Project II, I realize that I am now apart of history. I may not have been there, but I was one of the last age groups on this Earth to remember what they were doing that day. Just as in the Pearl Harbor Project, we are looking for WWII veterans to talk to, one day someone will want to know about 9/11, because it will have been a day in the past just like Pearl Harbor is to us.
But this is our Pearl Harbor
We should never be ashamed of our country. We should always be helping one another and joining together with pride like the days following 9/11. Never forget what you felt that day. And never forget the sacrifices that were made so that you, my friend, may live.

God bless America.
My home sweet home.


burn bright. the world needs your light

So a person whom I admire greatly and love to death (who will remain unnamed to protect their identity) came up to me a couple of weeks ago at a certain band event and began talking to me. She began to explain to me that she wrote about me in her journal. I was like,

'Oh crap. What did I stupidly say or do that will forever remain written in ink in one of my friends journals?'

but it wasn't like that at all.
this awesome person told me how she wrote that I, Nicole Marie Hopkinson, had inspired and encouraged her to do summer band. and she was super grateful for that.
At first I was like, HA! you're funny. NBD.

but then I thought about it. For me it was just nothing. I wanted this person to do summer because she's so outrageously talented and funny and I wanted to spend half my summer with her. Sounds normal, aye?
Something that was so simple for me to do was something important for her. And i'm not bragging. It's just, I LOVE making a difference. I love serving and inspiring people. I thought about how much summer band impacted me and to think that maybe I did that for her just warms my heart.

I want to be that inspiration for someone. I mean I guess I was for said girl above, but also someone else. I want someone to want to do band for me. I want someone to want to play clarinet for me. I want someone to dance for me. I want someone to become drum major for me. Not because of me. But for my existance. Not because I was amazing. But because I was having tons of fun and sharing it with others. I want to see the eyes of the Edgemont elementary students light up when they play clarinet and someday want to become one of those 'Timpview kids across the street'.

I could be that role model for someone. THAT COULD BE ME!

somebody is always watching



prets sure thats the topic on every Timpview upperclassmen's (most likely of the female variety) mind.
and it's not a happy topic.

Marching band can't go
Drama can't go
All State Choir folks can't go
Die-hard BYU fans shouldn't go
Some tennis lassies and cross country folks may or may not be able to go (sorry not sure bout that one)
Some German friends can't go.

I don't know. It may be just me, but this doesn't seem like the 'best date' choice for Homecoming.
I'm not ragging on, ANYBODY. Please do not get me wrong. I'm just a-sayin that this is my (and a whole bunch of other peeps) senior year and I can't go to Homecoming. If you think this post is directed at you, go find another blog to read.

I guess the only other way I'd love to spend my Senior Homecoming night is sitting next to Bao watching some gnarly marching bands. And then maybe going to the BYU football game. But we'll see how this all plays out.

it's just another stupid high school dance that I can't go to.
nbd. I'm over it