Sayonara

I grew up and I moved.

Robots and unicorns are cool and all, but I'm an adult now.

thecynicoleone.wordpress.com




SEE YA NEVER.

Letters to no one

Sorry if you think this is weird. If this is for you, you'll know by probably the next sentence. 

Billy Gilman is gay. So there’s that… I’m sure you laughed a little about it on the inside. I did. It was impossible to explain to anyone why it was funny to me because it involved you.

The blue sparkly notebook? You left it. On purpose, I surmise. It’s packed away with all my other childhood memories. Childhood. Ha. It’s true though. None of that now is relevant. All a part of my growing childhood.

Shaun (Sean, Shawn, Sch-aun, etc.) from Studio C came in to the office the other day. Yeah, apparently he still works there. I thought you [might] have appreciated that but then I remembered you hate me.

I made the stamp N a while ago. It’s hanging on my wall. But Cami helped me and it worked out a lot better than you described. But I’m not really sorry about that. Nor will I ever be.

I still follow you on Pinterest. Sometimes I forget, and when I’m scrolling down my feed, I see something and think, “Ha, she would appre-….. yep. She pinned that.”

And the biggest news of all? He loves me. Yes, him. The boy in the sparkly blue notebook. The boy whose picture on my wall I stared at for hours on long summer nights while you were doing homework. The boy who you told me I had a better chance with than the one you were “waiting for”. Well how ironic since you’re married NOT to the one I wrote validating pages of facts to convince you it could happen. Anyways, he told me he loves me. Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if YOU were the in the bedroom that day when I got the email. But you weren’t. And it’s not like you care one bit. Nor do I know why I’m “telling” you this. He’s coming home next week and after reading through my letters with him, it’s amazing how many times you were mentioned and how a part of my life you were. But that’s all I’m going to say, because honestly, I don’t feel like you deserve to know any of that anyways.

You’re losing your touch. I know you don’t care. Or maybe you do…. I don’t know anymore. But if you still care, your blog is losing its touch. Yes, I still check it every once in a while, mostly because I can’t figure out how to take the link off my favorites sidebar on mine. It’s really torturous, actually. But yeah, I give it a B-, now. I hope you get a little chuckle from me saying that. I mean, I was the only one you ever accepted criticism from so it’s fine. I think. #sorrynotsorry

Sometimes I wish I’ll see you on campus…other days I don’t. You see, I have this whole big spiel in my brain what I would say to you if we ever had an awkward encounter. I have two, actually. One for “bigger person Nicole” and one for “natural man Nicole”. And I guess it’s good that I haven’t seen you since because I’m not quite sure what I really would say.

What you did is kind of a running joke in my apartment. You know, “Don’t pull a C-----!” If I look like I’m packing up my stuff, my roommates will ask me if I’ll be moved out by the time they get home. It makes me laugh. It feels so good to laugh about it. One day I’ll tell my children, “Yeah, I had a roommate and best friend who ended up actually hating everything that I was and moved out in 2 hours without even telling me.” And then one day you’ll tell your kids, “Yeah, I had a roommate and best friend who got on my nerves so much that I upped and left and moved out one day in 2 hours and didn’t even tell her.” And then we’ll all laugh at how crazy college was. I also never told you at how impressed I was that you got out in 2 hours. I still wonder some days how you did that…#wizard

Chances are you aren’t even reading this, but I think it was important all this escaped the dark corner of my brain where those feelings of helplessness and zero self-worth dwell. That’s all really. I hope you have a nice day, I really do. So yeah. Bye.

Nicole

Why I'm Coming Out of the Provo Closet

Ah. Where do I start?
Provo. Let’s start there.

8 years it’s been. 8 long years since my family upped from our previous residence in Schertz, Texas (yes, it’s really called “Schertz”) and settled in Provo, Utah, or “Mormonland” as my elementary friends so lovingly referred to it when I told them across the lunch table where I was moving to at the end of the school year. When I moved to Provo, I struggled to make friends. Seventh and eighth grade didn’t really treat me well and people weren’t as welcoming as I thought they should be. You see, life prior to Utah was a constant transition. Each town my family had relocated to was used to the fact that you would have different best friends each year. Families moved after 3 years and that was life. Being the “new kid” in school didn’t last very long as you weren’t the only one. Plus, the next year there would be a whole new herd of "new kids" to welcome in anyways. Change was normal. Change was good.

But not in Provo, Utah. People have lived here for who knows how many years in the same house their parents lived and graduated from the same high school their parents did. It’s nice and lovely and sweet and all and it gives you the home town feel without being the small town where a Walmart does not exist. And trust me- that’s a thing; Walmart caused a revolution in Schertz. Living in this bubble for the first few years consequently proved difficult. It took me a lot longer than I expected to get a good, solid and welcoming group of friends. But even they had their ignorant moments. It frustrated me how I could not get them to kindly remember that “No, I was not in Mrs. So and So’s class in elementary school and I do not want to go visit her because believe it or not, even though I live in Provo, I didn't go to elementary school here and wasn't best friends with you since kindergarten.” *gasps for breath*
And that ticked me off as well. I couldn't say I was friends with someone since kindergarten because all my kindergarten friends were long gone and I hadn't talked to them since, well, kindergarten. Looking back now I guess that meant I just fit in so well to their group and I should have been flattered. But such is life. I grew up and got over myself, I graduated from high school, and now I go to college here. I’m happy, I'm healthy, and I love where I live.

All this I’ve mentioned so far culminated into the love-hate relationship I’ve had with Provo from the beginning. Reference this past blog post here and you can experience and understand my initial frustration beginning college in the heart of Provo. Oh and did I mention it was the same place I’d already been living for 6 years previous? The point I'm trying to make here is that after those 8 long years, the “love” portion of that relationship is finally beginning to overcome the “hate”. I’ve finally accepted it all and seen the beauty Provo not only has, but is. I know it still has its frustrating moments where, with this many members of the LDS faith concentrated so closely, you’re bound to have judgmental and negative experiences, but I choose to look at the positive experiences I’ve had. And I’ve had a lot.

So yes, I have finally begun to say and admit that I am from Provo. I guess you could say that I’m coming out of the Provo closet. I knew I was when my brother started adamantly insisting that he hated Provo and wanted to get out as soon as possible because it sucked. After he said this, I actually got offended and realized that it hurt me when he talked bad about Provo. So to all you haters out there- fine! Hate away! I can't stop you. Complain about the culture, the construction (I'll join you there), the crazy college students, the drivers, but personally I believe you, my friend, are the one making it worse. 

Sometimes I get a little stir crazy and want out. Like right now for example. Out of Provo is alllllllll I want to be at the moment. I can’t wait to travel the country and have new experiences like my family once did in the Air Force. In a sense, I feel a lot like Rapunzel. Which is good because usually I hate her and do not relate to her in the slightest, but in this moment I'm finding some common ground.

I know that one day when I will inevitably leave, excited and anxious to finally depart,

 I will look back and wonder why I ever wanted to leave in the first place.

Because Provo is home. And I don’t think that will ever change.

#ProvoRocks

Why I'm a Sociology Major

A couple facts about Sociology:

1) It’s probably the shortest major to complete offered at BYU, coming in at a simple 48 credit hours.

2) It’s an open major, meaning I don’t have to slave away for those unnecessary A’s that I am definitely not receiving and I don’t have to put together an application and pray the Gods feel favorable to me that day and let me into their secret club.

3)  It’s considered easy and let’s get real- a lot of the student athletes heavily involved in the winning sports teams major in it because it has that reputation *cough* KYLE COLLINSWORTH IS IN MY SOCIAL RESEARCH METHODS CLASS *cough*

But disregarding all those awesome facts up thurr ^, let’s talk about how it’s actually been really hard for me…

 I came into college and I thought I wanted to be a math teacher. If everyone has a thing in high school, my “thang” (besides band…..duh) was math. Excluding calculus from this equation (ha. Get it?), I was GOOD at math. I excelled at it and I enjoyed doing my math homework at night. Why, you ask? It had set formulas and it had set processes. When doing these processes, you had no reason to fear that the correct answer was not going to appear. If it did, you were simply just doing the equation wrong and you could try again.

Cue college and the entrance of sociology and the tumultuous applause for Nicole who finally chose a major.

People have always intrigued me. I love asking questions such as “Why did that person do that?” or “Why did society vote for that presidential candidate?” or even “Why did that annoying bystander try to talk to me on campus?”. Yeah, things like that. Sociology allows me to do that. Yes, it may be considered a science and have set processes (occasionally. Only occasionally), but most of the time we have to turn into those free thinkers writing essays about interpreting Karl Marx’s theory of society and Durkheim’s study of suicide and random theories that go over my head 99% of the time. It’s made me view life in a different respect and pushed me to intellectual limits I thought reserved for smart people (a.k.a. DEFS NOT ME). 

I’ve realized lately that no matter how much I claim to (and actually do) hate people, people are so incredibly imperative in this life. Not just one person, but people as a whole- people as a society. I may be an introvert and avoid small talk like Ebola, but I cannot deny the extent that human interaction and understanding human relationships in society is imperative to our success and to our salvation. Yes, salvation #iwentthere

If Heavenly Father didn't want to us to use each other- our brothers and sisters- to travel this journey called life together, then why did he put us on this earth together? If it was as simple as living on a small cottage sized planet alone that was reserved for each of His children then you could tell me that your relationships don’t matter. But here I am typing this while I hear the conversations of my roommates in the kitchen, so the answer is no.

I am the first to admit that people anger me; I put too much trust into human beings and then they spit in my face and call it rain. I've been betrayed, insulted, abandoned, and belittled by too many people I once gave the title “best friend”. Looking back though, would I change those relationships? Would I avoid them knowing what was to come? Stupid and weak Nicole says heck yessssss. But 20 year Nicole who has a couple years under her belt that she never wears says BRING IT SNITCHES CUZ I’LL DO IT AGAIN.

So back to the original question- Why am I a Sociology major? Because very, very deep down, I love people. I am grateful for the lessons they teach me, the challenges they present me, the shoulders they give me to cry on, and the hands they give me to hold. The truth is, I couldn't go through this life without each and every single person on this planet, whether they call me friend or foe. Whether they realize and/or like it or not, they can’t get through this life without me. And if I can make it just a little easier for people to get through life, then majoring in Sociology and studying social theory until 3 am has been all worth it.

But for right now..... this picture I created accurately depicts how I feel about my Sociology classes this semester:

However, if you are not familiar with this picture, then take a gander at this video clip of one of my all time movies of childhood and enjoy.

I may not have a great job or future lined up for me once graduation hits, but I sure do love the people I get to experience it all with!

Anywhere, I would have followed you

"I really do care about you and I just want you to be happy."

You cared, so you moved all your stuff out without telling me so I’d come home to an empty apartment? Mmmmhmmmm. You care.

You wanna know what I did though after I realized what had happened?

I laughed.

I laughed.

Were you expecting that reaction? Because I definitely wasn’t. Based on past experiences, I was pleasantly surprised my emotions had become immune to your crap.

After I laughed, I called my best friends who cared (and still “care” might I add) about what was going on in my life to tell them the exciting news.

You literally erased me from your life. I know you did. And you know you did. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve that. But as mentioned above, you never communicated anything to me. At any time. It’s just a good thing that at this point in my life I don’t care and I don’t have depression and problems with self-worth like I did before. Because YOU of all people knew how your decisions and actions would have impacted me if I did. But don’t worry- in case you actually were wondering- I’m fine.

You promised me countless times you wouldn’t become like the red-headed devil who haunted my memories and started the process of the vulnerable and self-deprecating person I was to become. Now I’ve discovered you were exactly like her all along. I never was good enough and the promise made was just words put into the air. And apparently, according to your judgment because you “care” about me, I’m better off without you.

Don’t worry though. I have someone else to take fun and artsy pictures with and do arts and crafts with and live with and be my bridesmaid. I just sincerely and honestly hope you can find someone else too.




On a lighter note, here's a funny because I'm in a mood having slightly to do with unicorns.

Word Vomit

I used to care.

I used to care so much that it killed me inside- literally tearing away at my soul and eating away at my spirit

I used to care so much that I became depressed and struggled to eat, to sleep, to smile, to function, to live.

I used to care so much that-

No.

I used to care.

But now,

I couldn't care any less.

Disappear when anybody's close

Let me tell you about my day real quick-

I ate a poptart.

I was productive at work.

I had a rendezvous with Cami.

I drank a lemonberry slushie from Sonic.

I drove up a canyon.

I played in a river.

I danced in the empty, winding, canyon road.

I escaped some bees while braiding flowers in Cami's hair.

I bought Coldplay's new album.

I listened to Coldplay's new album.

I realized how little I care about you.

I smiled.

I was happy.

And I haven't been this happy in quite some time.

Here's to the people that help keep it that way.

#bigBlittleb