Never Grow Up

I've been on a Taylor Swift kick lately . . . like the rest of the world. I've loved Taylor though from day one. I remember the first time I heard her. My friend had just bought her first album. I was in high school. We were cruising down the highway in her jeep, wind snaking through our hair, when she cranked up the volume. Young Taylor crooned "Tim Mcgraw" and I was instantly in love.

Fast forward to her "Speak Now" album and I was in even more love. I listened to that album over and over again. I was now a student at Utah State University. I listened to Taylor on my way to classes, while I did homework, while I did laundry, while I cooked. You name it, I was probably listening to T-Swift.

Believe it or not, this post isn't actually about Taylor Swift at all (even though I'm obsessed). This post is about my little sisters.

One day when I was driving home from campus, I had Taylor's "Speak Now" album playing in my van (yes, this was back before my beloved van broke down). I think I was already in a melancholy mood, thinking about how much homework I had and how much I wished I could be five again. That's when the song "Never Grow Up" came on.

The lyrics hit home for me. I felt like it was me speaking to my two little sisters. The first verse reminded me of my baby sister, Chloe. She was little and goofy, and I never wanted that to change. The second verse talked about wanting to grow up and call your own shots, and I instantly thought of my sister, Lexi. She was, at the time, barely a teenager (and developing the attitude of one). She had always been Miss Independent. The third verse was about me. Imagining my dad getting home from work and playing with my little brother, and wishing I could go back to those simpler times. Everyone always claims they relate to Taylor's songs, right? Usually it's a song about heartbreak or love. For me, in that moment of driving home alone, "Never Grow Up" was my song. I didn't want my siblings to grow up. I wanted them to stay young and innocent. I didn't want to watch my parents grow older. I didn't want to grow older either.

As I got lost in the lyrics, I realized I was crying. What the? I pulled in my parking spot at our townhouse and just had a good pathetic sob over my steering wheel. Growing up can be tough stuff sometimes.

Well, since that day, I still haven't figured out how to keep my sisters little. Chloe is now 12 and Lexi is 16. Sometimes it's still weird to think they're that old and sometimes I still get sad about it. Sometimes I get lost in memories of holding them when they were babies, rubbing my cheek against their fuzzy and small heads. But now they're big. No longer babies. Lexi is dating boys now. She recently went to her first Homecoming dance. She looked gorgeous and grown up in her dress, with her hair all curled and pinned up. She let me do her makeup. Chloe is in middle school now, and she's going through that weird stage of not being a little girl anymore and trying to figure out how to be a young woman. Sometimes I catch her talking about boys. One day she was bragging to me about how an 8th grader asked her, a 6th grader, to wear his football jersey. Then she quickly wiped the grin off her face and said, "I don't care though. I don't like boys." Yeah, we'll see about that.

And even though I sometimes still get sad that my little sisters aren't so little anymore, I have to admit that they're in super fun stages right now. Now that they are getting older and more mature, we act less like siblings and more like friends. I mean, Lexi is basically the only person I ever Snap Chat.

 

These photos are from the summer when my sisters slept over at my house. We set up a projector and played "Just Dance" outside. We also had a fire and stuffed ourselves with chips, hot dogs, and s'mores. Then we fell asleep in the tent. It was the absolute best night, one of those that leaves you feeling good for weeks.

Growing up is not always fun, but I think there's definitely more good than bad. I'm learning that there is beauty to each stage of life . . . and I really love the stage I'm at right now (and the people who are around to enjoy it with me). 

Never Grow Up - Taylor Swift 

Your little hands wrapped around my finger
And it's so quiet in the world tonight
Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming
So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

To you, everything's funny
You got nothing to regret
I'd give all I have, honey
If you could stay like that

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
It could stay this simple

I won't let nobody hurt you
Won't let no one break your heart
No, no one will desert you
Just try to never grow up, never grow up

You're in the car on the way to the movies
And you're mortified your mom's dropping you off
At 14, there's just so much you can't do
And you can't wait to move out someday and call your own shots

But don't make her drop you off around the block
Remember that she's getting older, too
And don't lose the way that you dance around
In your PJs getting ready for school

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
It could stay this simple

No one's ever burned you
Nothing's ever left you scarred
And even though you want to
Just try to never grow up

Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room
Memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home
Remember the footsteps, remember the words said
And all your little brother's favorite songs

I just realized everything I have
Is someday gonna be gone

So here I am in my new apartment
In a big city, they just dropped me off
It's so much colder than I thought it would be
So I tuck myself in and turn my night light on

Wish I'd never grown up
I wish I'd never grown up

Oh, I don't wanna grow up, wish I'd never grown up
Could still be little
Oh, I don't wanna grow up, wish I'd never grown up
It could still be simple

Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
It could stay this simple

Won't let nobody hurt you
Won't let no one break your heart
And even though you want to
Please try to never grow up

Don't you ever grow up
(Never grow up)
Just never grow up

Lost Blossoms

Last week, our apple tree was clad in blossoms of pink and white. In just a matter of days, the petals tore free from the branches and were whisked away in the wind. Where dainty blossoms hung, there are now fresh leaves, green with life.

I've loved this first year of owning a home. With every change of the season, it feels like we've just moved in again. Everything feels, smells and looks new. 

I am a creature of change. At the end of each season, I find myself craving the next one. I change my hair every few months. I don't like being in the same place for too long. 

But the last few weeks, I've resented my friend, Change. I've just wanted to ask Change if he can slow down for me. Just for a minute.

My five year high school reunion is coming up. As I was fitting it into my calendar last night, I started thinking about all the people I love who I've lost touch with, and that's in only five years. I hate change for that reason. I hate that change sometimes forces people apart . . . tears them in different directions. 

I hate seeing my little sisters grow up. 

I hate seeing my parents get older. 

I hate seeing my grandparents get older. 

I hate seeing my friends move away. 

I hate that I can't eat a whole sleeve of Oreos anymore and still feel fine with myself after. 

That is a lot of hate flowing around, but I know it's just a moment of mourning and then it will flee. Even though change can be hard, there is a certain beauty in seeing time pass. There is a certain beauty in seeing people move on, in seeing people age and mature . . . but on certain days it's just more difficult to accept that beauty. 

I like this stage of life that I am in, and I'm just fearful that Change will play a joke on me and make it all disappear. 

A few nights ago, I finished the book "The Fault In Our Stars" while laying in bed, and I guess everything I'd been feeling just came crashing down on my shoulders. I quickly turned out the light before Brian could see I was crying. Then I clung my arms around his torso, because I just needed to feel his presence there beside me. He turned and asked me if I was crying. I whimpered a quiet yes. 

"Why are you crying?" 

"My book was just so sad." 

A moment of silence passed. 

"I don't want people to die."

"Who is going to die," Brian asked. 

"Everyone. We are all going to die."

And even though that was a very morbid ending to our night, I do know there is also a certain beauty in death. It's part of the journey. But just because it's beautiful and essential doesn't mean that I'm still not afraid of it. 

Now I'll end this slightly pathetic post with a quote from "The Fault In Our Stars".

"What a slut time is. She screws everybody." 

 

Sunday Best: SD Card Woes

top: Bella Me, skirt: Bella Me, tights: Target, heels: Kohl's

It was one of those times when I schmoozed my husband into taking outfit photos, only to find there was no SD card in my camera. Good thing our phones take decent pictures. 

Also, I can't get over this spring-like weather we are having in Utah during FEBRUARY. I hope it's not all a cruel trick. We went on a few walks and a short hike this weekend.

Oh, and some fun changes are happening at the Weller residence. Hopefully I can blog more about that this coming week. 

Peace and blessings. 

XO

Truth Cards

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, my mom, sisters and I hosted a Truth Card Party. I first learned about truth cards through Brave Girls' Club.

Truth cards are super easy to make and the supplies are simple. You take face cards or flash cards and then make them beautiful with paint, paper, ribbon, and mod podge. The most important part is to add a "truth" to the card. We get told a lot of nasty lies all the time. Whether those lies come from others or ourselves, they can be hurtful and make us feel like we don't measure up. Truth cards are a way to remind us of what is true and what is good.

My mom came up with the idea of making as many truth cards as possible before Christmas and sending them out to women who are in need encouragement this holiday season. We planned on distributing them to the women's shelter, food pantry and Angel Trees in our community (because even though the Angel Trees are about getting gifts for children in need, their mommies have needs too). It's funny how something as simple as making truth cards puts my mind in the right place for Christmas. I find myself putting a lot of thought and care into each card, and I always hope with all my heart that the right message will get to the right person.

Our Truth Card Party was a success. It was neat to see females of all ages, from little girls to their own mothers, gathered around the table making their cards. We also had sandwiches and soup for lunch which was just perfect.

I encourage you to try making your own truth cards. Even though the holidays will be over soon, you can really make these cards and distribute them for any and every occasion. I also know how difficult it can be to want so badly to be generous at Christmastime and buy presents for everyone in need, but realize that your own bank account won't allow that. This is a way to help out without sacrificing your whole paycheck. And I really feel like the messages these cards carry have much more importance than anything you can purchase at a store.

A Place of Refuge

I've always had a wandering heart. The idea and act of going places always has and probably always will excite me. It's not that I don't like home but a lot of times I just don't enjoy staying at home for an extended amount of time. So it came as a shock to me when Brian and I started talking about purchasing a house. A part of me thought I could just live in apartments forever. Also, the idea of having a permanent place frightened me a little. I am the type who gets bored quickly and seeks for change. How could I ever own a house and not get sick of it?

 However, after looking at how much money we'd spent on rent since getting married, my heart sunk a little and the idea of making a house payment started to sound much more appealing than paying rent. But I was more than positive we couldn't find the right house for us, a place I could grow attached to.

But I was wrong. We found it.

Ever since I was just a little girl, I always said I would one day live in an old house and fix it up. Others' ultimate dream houses include ideas of swimming pools, massive yards, Jacuzzi tubs, and home movie theaters. However, when I think of my dream house, I think of something old and filled with charm. I think of creaking floors, porch swings and a fireplace. The idea of walls already filled with the memories and stories of other families feels endearing to me.

When we took a tour of the bungalow house, I instantly felt myself fall in love. It was built in 1914, had a huge deck and was surrounded by mature trees. It was a bonus that there was a tree house and posts for a hammock in the yard. After our initial tour, I remember turning to Brian with wide eyes and saying, "It's just like an old house in a scary movie." Which in my opinion, the houses in scary movies are almost always the prettiest. And everywhere I turned I could just see us. Living. Being. And living and being happy. I could see a Christmas tree near the fireplace, I could imagine myself coming home from a rough day and breaking down once I got inside the comfort of those walls, I could see us gathered with friends out on the deck on warm summer nights, I could imagine myself walking a dog, I could see the kids playing in the yard, I could imagine measuring their height each birthday and marking it on the wall. I could see and imagine all these things I wanted in my future that I had never been so sure of before. After months of debating, praying, revisiting the house, and weighing pros and cons, we did something that felt so crazy to me. We put in an offer. After going back and forth with the sellers a bit, we both agreed on a price. As of last week, that little bungalow became ours.

We have a house and it's a dream. Sure, the floors creak and we've been staying up late every night repainting all the rooms . . . but it's ours. I cannot wait to make it into a home. Sure, I have a wandering heart but it's nice to know it will always have a place to wander back to for rest. This house already has 100 years of memories, but I can't wait to fill it with our memories, both bitter and sweet.

From Split Ends to Fresh Starts

It's outstanding how making subtle changes (or big changes) can give me a new fresh outlook on life. Something as simple as coloring my hair and trimming off some dry ends has turned me into a new woman. I wake up in the morning ready to tackle the day, starting with styling the mop on my head.

If there is something in your life that needs changing, embrace it. Sure, change can be scary but it can also be exhilarating and rewarding. Get rid of those "dry and damaged ends" in life that are dragging you down and start fresh.

Get that haircut, go after that new job, start that project, make that move, follow that dream. Big or small, positive change is healthy and essential to get where we're going.

xo Happy Monday

The Worst Happy Day

I had someone tell me that when their son entered the MTC, it was the worst happy day ever. I completely understand what she meant now.

I can't wait to get his letters and hear about his adventures. It will be so good.

And every time I start to miss him a little, I'll just wear my California shirt.

Elder Keller

My brother moves to California tomorrow and will live there for the next two years. He will dedicate his time to serving others and spreading this message.

I never thought it would be so hard for me to watch my brother go on a mission. I'm actually a bit embarrassed because, I mean, people go on missions everyday. It shouldn't be this big of a struggle for me. Plus, it's just two years. I can write him letters and send emails. I can even skype with him on Christmas day. All the same, I'm really going to miss Ronnie Jace, my one and only brother.

I loved Jace from the day he was born. Not only is he my little brother and one of my longest-kept friends, but he gave me an important title. He gave me the title of big sister.

I was so excited when my mom was pregnant with Jace. I waltzed around declaring myself the big sister. My parents didn't find out the sex for any of us kids so it was always a constant guessing game on whether my mom would have a boy or a girl. But I knew from the beginning that I was going to have a little brother. Anytime someone would say to me, "Are you so excited to have a little brother or sister?" I would respond by telling them I was very excited to have a little brother.

After Jace was born, I took it upon myself to protect him and keep him happy, as any good big sister would. I was convinced the only person that could bully him would be me. Which I did all growing up.

 My childhood friend Catherine and I would lock Jace out of our wooden playhouse in the garden almost daily.

"What's the password," we would ask in demanding voices. J

ace would say passwords in his gentle little voice and even when he got the password correct, he still wasn't allowed to pass.

"Sorry, we just changed the password."

He constantly wanted to play with me and my friends, but when my friends were around, I was just too cool for my little brother. One time, when Catherine and I were making our pretend radio show where we discussed different animals (this was a common occurrence), we took a break to get a snack. We left our cassette tape and recorder on the couch. Jace usually sat and listened to us record, but we never let him talk even though he begged many times. When we returned from our snack, we found Jace guiltily holding the microphone. He had recorded his own segment on hermit crabs (his favorite animal). At the time, I was angry. Now I'm so glad he did it. I'm glad we have his cute little voice recorded. He had trouble saying his "r"s as a child so he can be heard in his timid voice saying, "I weally wove hewmit cwabs. Maybe I'll buy two ow fwee." Even in my high school years, I managed to pick on Jace here and there. He was a freshman when I was senior. I don't think he realizes how much I worried about him and asked guys my own age to look out for him, but that still didn't mean I didn't tease him ruthlessly when passing him in the hallway between classes.

Along with all the mean things I did to Jace growing up, I feel like I also tried hard to be nice. Jace was very shy when he was little. I, however, was not all that shy. At times I was overconfident and bossy. So I took it upon myself to be Jace's voice when he was too afraid to speak. There were countless times I would coax him to answer an adult or just answer for him if he didn't want to.

 Since we were just little all the way up to when I got my driver's license, I sat by Jace on the school bus. I remember once when I was in middle school, I went to sit somewhere else one morning. I heard Jace's sweet voice, "Kelsey . . . please sit by me." I'm sure I rolled my eyes, the way most thirteen year olds do, but I plopped down next to him in my regular spot.

Also, when my friends weren't around, Jace was my very best friend. We had all kinds of games we played together. We were constant companions. Many of our childhood days were spent jumping on the tramp, riding bikes, climbing the crab apple trees in our pasture, and digging in our sandpit. I also easily convinced Jace that dancing in the front room with me was fun. In our dress-up clothes, we had two tutus, a pink one and blue one. Jace always wore the blue one (as I remember it). We would get dressed up and I would turn on and turn up some music in our front room. There we twirled around, the armchairs and piano were our audience. This soon became one of Jace's favorite things to do. He would go put on his tutu and ask if we could play dancers. I guess I should mention that Jace was three/four at this time. If you were imagining him being, say, 12 then this might be a little weird.

Once I graduated from high school, I distanced myself from Jace a bit. We were living in different selfish worlds; high school and college. However, once Jace reached the end of his senior year and decided he would go to a year at USU and then serve a mission, I became excited. I started thinking how much fun it would be to go to college with my brother. Then I realized that I was not the cool big sister but the embarrassing older sister who was married. I would probably rarely see Jace around USU. However, Jace proved me wrong. My brother instantly got very involved at school and even joined a fraternity, but that didn't mean he was too cool for me, the way I had been back when we were kids. There were many times we met up for dinner or went out to a movie. Not only that, Jace would often show up to our townhouse unannounced.

 "I just wanted to say hi," he would say as I answered the knock at the door.

Then he would sit in our living room for an hour or two and we would chat and laugh about things. One Saturday morning, he even showed up to surprise me with a Mr. Bucket he had thrifted. All the pieces were still there and it was nearly in perfect condition. My Mr. Bucket had been one of my favorite toys as a kid. I felt extremely special that day that Jace had taken the time to bring me such a special gift.

 I don't think he realizes how much I've appreciated our relationship in the last year. We have always been close, but I feel like we are now closer than ever.

So now you understand why I am having anxiety about this mission thing. I'll be the first to admit I'm a drama queen so I'm sure it won't be so bad, but I really will miss my little brother. It's crazy to think when I see him again after tomorrow, he will be almost the same age that I am right now.

Elder Keller, you will be one heck of a missionary. Every time you get out of bed, I'm sure the devil will be nervous. I guess I can give up two years of goofing off with you so that you can bring truth and happiness to other families out there who are currently searching for peace. You are one of the kindest people I've ever met with the biggest heart. How grateful I am to call you my brother. Thank you for giving me one of my favorite titles: big sister.

    

These are just some pictures I had handy on my laptop. So don't you fret, next time I visit my parents' house, you better believe I'll be digging up that photo of Jace in his tutu. At least I can share embarrassing stuff about him while he's gone and he'll never have to know, right?  

Truth Tuesday

• It's time to be completely honest. . . I just don't love blogging anymore. I am not sure exactly what that means for the future of this blog. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's just a phase and I'll fall in love with it all over again. Maybe I'll keep it up with the inconsistent spurts of posts. Or maybe I'll eventually stop all together. I just don't know. But I do know that my life is changing. I started this blog while in school after the Department Head of Journalism said to me, "If you want to be a good journalist, you need to write and read something every day." So I started this blog as a way to write something and put it out there for someone else to read, hoping that it might strengthen my writing skills. Then I watched as blogging turned into a coping mechanism for me. It was really a means of escape for me while in school. When I felt stressed and needed to take a break from editing and appointments and homework, I would write. I would write here, on this blog. There were no deadlines, no expectations, no grades. For a moment I could just turn away from my to-do list and write out my jumbled thoughts in a blog post. This blog was my outlet. Now I am at this weird transition in my life. I feel like I have control of my time more and it's so nice. When I do have a spare moment nowadays, I think of writing a blog post but the desire is not there. Maybe that's a sad thing, but I think maybe more than anything it's a healthy thing. I think it's a sign that my life is good. Don't get me wrong, life was good before, but I don't necessarily need to come to this blog on a regular basis as a means of escape like I did before. I don't have to live through this blog. I don't have to justify myself through this blog. Perhaps soon I'll be back for more blogging. Who knows. But for now, I am enjoying how it feels to just be.  Is this normal?   

• I am now serving in my church ward as an assistant camp director for girls camp as well as a leader for activity days. I am stoked! I love spending time with the youth. It's such a cool experience to see them progress and develop goals. Today we went horse back riding with our girls for activity days. The girls bundled up and braved the rainy weather. It was a blast! After we dropped the girls off (we all live in an area of town homes) one of the gals dropped by my place and gave me a little bouquet of flowers she picked. I put them in a vase on my kitchen table and thought of how my mom used to always do that with all the flowers we brought her. That cute girl made my night though, although I feel slightly bad she picked someone else's flowers. Sorry! 

• I think holidays on Mondays are just about the best thing to ever happen to our calendar.

• On that subject, my long weekend earned an A+. We went on several different hikes, hung out with friends and family, had a fire up the canyon where we roasted hot dogs and mallows, ate burgers at barbecues, and we cleaned our patio up and planted flowers. It was a productive weekend. 

• My only regret from this weekend is that we didn't make it to the cemeteries this year for Memorial Day. I feel guilty. Honestly, Memorial Day has always been one of my favorite holidays. I have wonderful memories of visiting different graves with my family. I would set the flowers carefully next to the tombstone while the adults would tell me the stories of my deceased family members and ancestors. I guess I've always had a journalist in me because as a kid I loved hearing stories about these people who were my relatives. One day, I hope I can remember the stories of those who passed on well enough that I can tell them to my own kids and take them to visit the graves.    

Sunday Best: Shaven Legs

top: F21, necklace: F21, earrings: F21, skirt: maurices, tights: TJ Maxx, heels: Kmart, bracelet: gift

When a girl picks up a razor for the first time to shave the hair off her legs, it's kind of a right of passage. It is one of the many steps we take to become a woman. I was the last girl in my grade to shave my legs. I remember how it happened, exactly. I was in the locker room after PE and as I changed alongside my female classmates, the discussion of leg shaving came up. I carefully listened as all the girls chatted about how smooth their legs felt and I glanced down at my dry legs covered with little stubs of hair. Those stubs told me I was still a child. A child surrounded by women. Suddenly, another girl shouted, "Wait. Do you all shave your legs?" I shyly admitted I never had. Turns out the other girl hadn't either. The rest of the girls went on to tease us and we stood together, surrounded by legs much smoother and hairless than our own. As I walked from the locker room with this other girl who had never held a razor in hand, I made a deal with her. That night, we would both ask our moms if we could begin the journey of shaving our legs. I remember being so incredibly nervous that night to confront my mom. I finally worked up the courage to ask her, and she led me to the bathroom to give me my first shaving lesson. 

The first time was so exciting. I took careful long strokes, feeling the blade against flesh. Watching as my childhood hairs dropped from the blade and whirled around in the tub water. And after I dried off, I applied lotion to my now hairless legs. That night, I think I fell asleep stroking the smooth skin of my legs. I was now a woman. If only I knew then what a pain it really is to shave legs. . .perhaps I would have waited a few more years to start. 

Today, I felt a bit like I did ten years ago in that locker room. Embarrassed of my childhood leg hairs. Both nervous and excited about growing up. Today my wonderful husband, Brian, was made second counselor in the bishopric of our ward. We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons). Basically different areas are divided into wards and the bishop is the one who oversees the people of each individual ward. As a bishop, you have two counselors to help assist you with all the work to be done. Brian is now one of those counselors. And if you aren't familiar with the LDS church and I've already confused you beyond measure, just know that this calling of Brian's means he will be gone a lot, helping people, and I will now hardly see him on Sundays. This means no more back rubs for me during sacrament meeting since he will be sitting on the stand (woe is me). I know Brian will do a great job, but as his wife, I feel sort of intimidated and inadequate. And young. I mostly just feel really young. So today I wore a black skirt and black tights (I rarely wear so much black) hoping that my outfit would say, "No, I'm not twenty-two years old and flawed beyond measure. I can handle this." 

But then again, my cheetah print heels probably jeopardized that motive.

If you have any tips on how to be more grown-up and mature, that'd be nice. This might be a little harder than leg shaving. 

21

I have been 22 years old for nearly a week now. I keep wondering what new things 22 year old Kelsey will experience.

My twenty-first year of life was a dandy one. And I went out with a bang. My last day of being 21 was spent in the mountains, snowboarding. Then that night, we braved the cold and walked around Temple Square.

I decided I wanted to make a list of 21 things I did at 21. In no particular order, here it is:


1. I spent my 21st birthday in Las Vegas where I made money gambling. Fifty dollars to be precise. And that was on a quarter bet machine, mind you.

2. I took an African Dance class. By far the most interesting PE class I have ever and probably ever will take.

3. I started running half marathons.

4. I made my first documentary.

5. I ate frog legs for the first time.

6. I started growing my hair out after having it very, very short for the last two years. Along with the decision to grow my hair out, I got straight across bangs for the first time in my life. Well. . .I guess I had them in the 90s too. . .but that's when you curled them and fluffed them really big. So I feel like it's very different.

7. I went wake surfing for the first time.

8. I bought a video camera.

9. I shot video for my first wedding.

10. I went on my first legit backpacking trip .

11. I took a class to certify for my concealed weapon permit (watch out, boys).

12. I improved my cooking skills (hooray).

13. I grew a garden. It mostly consisted of flowers, but whatever.

14. I interviewed some cool people. Michael Ballam, an avalanche survivor, the first female from Utah to swim the English Channel. . .just to name a few.

15. I got my first smart phone, immediately got an instagram, and never looked back since.

16. I swam with sea turtles in Hawaii.

17. I started wearing lipstick on a regular basis.

18. I hosted my first bridal shower, and loved it. I kind of adore party planning. .

19. I watched the "Back to the Future" trilogy for the first time. I know. It's like a sin it took me 21 years to watch it.

20. I got food poisoning for the first time ever. Which caused me to throw up for the first time in about 8 years. Oh, and Brian got it too. So we took turns at the toilet. It was quite romantic. Needless to say, I will never eat another potato or egg salad at a community function ever again.

21. I got a new car. One that smells like new car instead of crayons.

Gratitude Journal: Utah State University

beautiful Old Main & a Cache Valley sunset

I know I often times complain about school. But that's half the privilege of being a college student, right? Getting to complain about how hard everything is?

All kidding aside, I often times fail to remember how blessed I am that I'm getting a good education. And thanks to some very kind people who took pity on me or something, I am not having to pay the entirety of the expenses on my own. Thank goodness for scholarships and financial aid.

A couple weeks back when the announcement was made that Hostess would be shutting down, I decided to pick it up and do a news story on community reaction for USU student news. On Monday morning, bright and early, I actually made a trip to Ogden so I could be at the outlet store when their doors opened to sell the last products on shelves. I interviewed customers, I got camera shots of people pushing carts piled to the brim with cupcakes and donuts, I even interviewed the boy who got the last three boxes of Twinkies (he was sluffing school too, might I add). That was all fun and games. Then came the hard part. I asked one of the store clerks if I could interview her. Her initial reaction to me that morning wasn't the sweetest. I could tell she was a little bitter there was yet another person with a camera in their hair. However, she agreed to do the interview and she soon started to open up to me. Her interview really touched me. She expressed to me how scared she was for her future, how much she had loved her long-time job with Hostess, and being 55 years old, she didn't know what to do next. My heart ached for her as she opened up to me. After the interview ended and the record button was off, I continued talking to this lady who I found a connection with in the fifteen minutes of interviewing her. Before leaving the store, I shyly asked her if I could give her a hug. She gave me a big hug and told me she couldn't wait to see me on the news one day. She was a sweetheart.

My experience with this lady made me realize how grateful I am to be a student, working on my degree. In a world where good jobs are hard to come by, I'm glad that I can feel confident in the fact that I'll have my college degree.

And not just a college degree. A college degree from Utah State University. The most beautiful campus in all the world. I fell head over heels in love with my Aggie Blue when I first came here in 2009, and that love for my school has done nothing but grown stronger. It's where I met, became a "True Aggie" with, and married my husband. . .it's where I found myself and also who I want to become. . .it's where I discovered I have an absolute love for news and journalism and how important it is. I fear I will be one of those mothers who decks her child out in school apparel before they are even old enough to walk. I'm sorry, future children. But at least navy blue is a flattering color on just about everyone.

As I'm finishing up finals (my last one being tomorrow morning), I am exhausted but also can't help but feel a little sad that I will only be experiencing one more semester of final papers and filling scantrons out. It's all pretty bittersweet. I have met some of the most incredible people here at Utah State. From the track team, from jobs, from classes, from professors, and from A-TV News. Not only have I met incredible people. . .but I also met myself. A new, wiser, improved Kelsey. I am still super flawed in many ways, yes. But my college experience has made me better. As scared as I am to graduate, I'm excited to be an Aggie Alumni and I'm also excited to start my career (whatever that career ends up being).

Today, as I sit at my kitchen table that is lost beneath notebook papers and textbooks, I am grateful to be studying for a final exam. I am grateful for higher education. And I am especially grateful to be an Aggie.

 A-TV News Team. That's me in the maroon shiny shirt. . .in case you forgot what I look like.

With Producer Karlie after our Christmas show and last show of the semester