The worst things in life come free to us

Know what I did today?
I did a great  thing.
Absolutely great.

That little check mark in that box - know what I did after I clicked it?
I deleted it.
It's finally gone.


Don't ask me why, but I've been holding onto those words- just in case I ever wanted to go back and read that sucker to remind myself of my anger and hatred and resentment towards them. And trust me, I have done just that many a time this past school year.
But finally, something clicked inside of me and I didn't need it anymore.
I'm different than I was a year ago, and this Nicole doesn't need justifications and excuses.

So what?

They're happy.

I'm happy.

I bet Ghandi is happy

wherever he is..

And you ask me what I want this year

I want to do this

And I'm saving money because I really  want to go and do this

Not to mention THIS

I also would like to be a counselor for this

Oh, and did I mention my dream is to one day be this?

Don't be surprised when I do this on my birthday in 62 days.

Somehow, I will make these happen.

"The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just."

Thanks, Lincoln. I trust you.
You got my back.
I only wish I had yours when Booth shot yours.

Too soon?

You've gotta take it on your own from here

Wanna know what makes Nicole the happiest or close to it?

When "little" band children run up to you after the Pillow Concert and hug you to death and tell you they love you and miss you. It makes me think that they actually liked  me. And it's the only time I willingly give out genuine hugs and "I love you"s.

It's the moments like this that make me miss it (except you probably don't believe me because I say that every other day). But it's for reals this time.
Not to mention that this video gets me close to tears everytime.
Good stuff right thur.


Oh how I would give anything to go back and be their drum major again. Just once more.


But what else is new?

Well I'll tell you what's new.

This derp Nicole face:

Just kidding.

That isn't new at all.

Oh well

#yolo

But I will see you again, a long time from now

Everybody's family is constructed differently. Mine, I believe, just happens to be constructed a lot more bizarre than most others. I could sit down and try to explain to you how the many relatives I have are only semi-related to me, but it would take days to completely understand. I mean, here I am at 18 years of age and I still don't quite understand all the relationships in my family. But the one thing that intrigues me is the thought of my dead relatives. Morbid, I know. And plus that's a lot of dead relatives in the line of Nicole Hopkinson. However, there are 3 particular people who have been long gone and who have joined the cheering section for us with the big man upstairs that I think about quite often. I think about making them proud.

Grandpa Dick

Aunt Cindy

and

Uncle Ricky

Uncle Ricky was my dad's older brother and died from SIDS. He was my grandparent's first child and I can't imagine having to deal with losing your firstborn child at such a young age. We talk about him often, but no one knows much about him obviously since he was just a couple months old. Sometimes when we visit his grave, I imagine him and make up a life for him today if he was still alive; He would have a wife whose name started with an 'S' to carry the family tradition - Sarah or perhaps Samantha. They'd have kids about the same age as my family and we'd probably be best friends. Uncle Ricky would be the greatest uncle in the world. I know that because he was taken so early, he must be a strong spirit up in Heaven. He'd probably have some cool, fancy job that made him travel the country so that our family wasn't always the one family left out of the constant Provo Hopkinson clan. He'd be the uncle that every girl needs. And let's get real, I'd probably be his favorite niece. 

Aunt Cindy was my mom's younger and only sister who died from a brain aneurysm in her early twenties. She had a one year old daughter at the time of her death who was just 2 months older than me - my cousin who is my aunt Cindy's only child. The aneurysm was unexpected and sometimes I forget that my mom ever had a sister because I was so young when it happened that I don't have memories of Cindy. I've seen pictures and home videos and I've realized that I look almost exactly like her as I continue to grow older. I wonder if my mom ever looks at me and imagines her sister in my place. Sometimes I feel like that's why my mom and I have such a good relationship, because she's the sister I never had, and I'm the sister she lost. I'm excited to be reunited and officially meet her, but I'm more excited for my cousin Aubrey to meet her mom. And then we can all be a happy family together - a family of Anthony women, which is the way it should be.

Grandpa Dick was my Dad's father and died of colon cancer four months after my parents got married. My grandma has been single ever since and that's the only life I've ever known. Just like Uncle Ricky, I don't know him; I don't know his personality, his quirks, what makes him tick...I don't know anything about my own grandpa unless I was told about it through a story. So most of what I know about him, I've probably made it up in my head. But sometimes I yearn to have memories of him. I feel like he would be that tough grandpa that would do anything for his grandchildren. He would probably give the best, no-nonsense advice. I can feel it. And I feel that when the time comes that we will all be reunited again, I will run into my grandpa's arms like we'd never been parted. We'll have so much catching up to do. I know his spirit is there.

And this is why the Plan of Salvation is true.
So that people like me can think about their dead relatives.

Welcome to my life.

Let's call it off

"Nicole, you can't come in at 2:30 in the morning anymore."

Well, this is gonna be a problem....
And a very long summer.


Time to start looking for other options.


Also, I hate security cameras. Someone should take their attention off of gun laws and make security camera laws. Those are causing some serious problems  in my opinion.

The posh, posh, traveling life

How do I spend my posh Friday nights while vacationing in Washington D.C. you ask (because I know you asked and you're dying  for me to tell you)? Well only because you asked, I'll tell. I'm learning how to be popular and to do so, you spend your vacation nights attending the oh-so upper class concerts at the Library of Congress.

Here's what happened:

     Emma and I were busy wining and dining with the President himself............ just kidding. Fooled ya. We were busy taking a nap on the Capitol grounds and basking in the glorious sunlight when my dear cousin Amy - who was gracious enough to house us homeless college kids at her place for the week - texted me asking if we would be interested in attending "an orchestra concert at the Library of Congress" that night. Well OF COURSE WE DID. If I want to fit in and be popular, I have to attend such notable events of the district.
     What I thought "orchestra concert" meant was a fine night of classical music (lower case 'c' to indicate the genre, NOT the era) where they perhaps might play Percy Grainger because I'm naive enough to think that every orchestra and symphony loves Percy Grainger as much as I do. Was Grainger on their repertoire? No. But I was excited nonetheless. I would be able to use my newly discovered Music 101 knowledge and impress all the bureaucrats at the concert. Someone so young as I shouldn't know as much as I should, they would say to me. We would then hold up our pinkies and chat about how popular we were. But really. Imma be brutally honest here, Emma and I were defs the youngest in the auditorium, by a good decade.

CUE MODERN MUSIC

Now don't get me wrong, I like modern music just as much as the next guy in the psych ward does. Heck, the Timpview Band even played modern music. I can be a serious musician; I appreciate the arts. But was I prepared for the night of music I was given that night? Not in the slightest.

     I maintained composure as long as I could. It was enjoyable for the first piece since I could easily appreciate and relate to the amazing clarinetists. Then, they began to pull out all the stops (<---- see how I'm using all my Music 101 knowledge?).

The music just got weirder and weirder and soon enough the musicians were just doing freaky stuff that I was convinced I was being inducted into a cult of some local Indian tribesmen. I tried so hard  to appreciate it. I thought to myself, "Well, maybe if you look at it in a different way, you can better enjoy it the way it meant to be enjoyed."
So I started listening to it with one eye closed.
That didn't do much.
Then I tried rapidly blinking my eyes as fast as I could!
That was fun, I'd totally recommend that. It heightened my experience greatly.
I even watched and listened to them with my eyes out of focus to make everything blurred.
THAT WAS GREAT.
But really. I was doing amazing....

And then they pulled out the Jew's Harp.

I DIED.

It was a JEW'S HARP PEOPLE. So basically I was laughing my head off, but in attempts to control that laughter, I started crying because I was keeping it in. I couldn't stop thinking of all the funny texts I would send to my dear old brother - the Jew's harp lover - after the concert. And it just went downhill from there. 

     Anyways, I don't really know why I decided to tell you this story. I just thought modern music could easily be appreciated. Obviously I was wrong. Moral of the story: Nicole shouldn't go to fancy, upscale concerts. Also, Nicole should live in Washington D.C. Yep.

Home, where I wanted to go.

DILEMMAS, GUYS.

I have them.

I'm living at the home for the summer. I know, I know. I'm that Provo girl. Trust me, it's great fun.
I know that right now it's what I'm supposed to be doing, although sometimes it's hard to realize that. I'm saving money so that I might be the independent woman I've always dreamed of (we all know I'm talking about Rosie the Riveter here) and move out and pay for most of it on my own. I figured the more ties I cut with my parentals who live in P-town, the better. Then I won't be the "girl living at her parent's who has no friends". But I hate rules. I. HATE. THEM. Just kidding. I thrive for rules and structure. But only if it's rules that I actually like and want to follow. I know, I'm hard to please. So when I suddenly have to revert back to following rules and "curfews" and checking in with my parents and cancel all my reckless behavior (or at least that's the behavior my parents would call it), it's hard. And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine. Cheddar, please.

I also can't decide what ward to go to.
If I stay in my home ward, they'll give me a calling, I just know it. I'd also be going alone as my brothers attend the singles ward and my parents are in a BYU ward bishopric. And lately, I like sliding past the radar unnoticed. I did my duty as primary teacher last summer. And let me tell you, I failed. The second I confirm that my records will stay in the good 'ole Sherwood Hills ward, those bishopric members will pounce like our neighborhood cougar pounced on the Gray family's poor cat. And then I will be stuck. Or dead.

On the other hand, I could go to the stake singles ward. Whoop de doo. Tag a long with my most popular, older brothers and mingle with old, desperate RM's? Sign me up!

Or I could take the last and most desirable option I've come up with which is to go "inactive" and become a  ward hopper who goes to missionary farewells all summer. Okay cool, that was my plan all along.

Should I just give up my dreams of a fun summer vacation and work till I collapse? Should I move out summer term and go to school? WHAT DO I DO. The second I think I have things decided, new, shiny options are presented before me. And boy do I like shiny things.

Well, on we go with life and I think I'll just mull things over for a bit while I'm in Washington D.C. 

See ya, folks.