Starting Over. Again.

The bell rang. Lunch time. Wowy, what a non-eventful day it had been so far. I turned the corner by the library into the main hall. Not the best decision I've ever made, due to the fact that there were more people packed into this hallway than I even knew attended my school! With my head down, I followed the flow of traffic (practically bumper to bumper, people). Thoughts were zooming through my head of the mill trill responsibilities and homework and places to be and the dream I had last night and homework: When was that green paper due? Did we have a reading assignment in that class? I really need a planner. Where is he? I usually see him in this hall. I hope she's already at the table. Why are there so many.... I froze mid-step. Dead in my tracks. Did I seriously just have those thoughts? I gasped aloud and tears filled my eyes. Why was that such a real feeling? I knew they were gone. Never to come back again. But my brain didn't accept it until now? And it hit: I'm the senior. I have to do this on my own. As I was shoved along by restless hungered students, I attempted to hide the waterworks, but the thoughts of them kept echoing in my head.
This happened last year too. Can someone please tell me why my favorite people have to be in the grades above mine?? It's killing me.

Dear American Fork High School Teachers, Students, Parents, and Alumni:

Remember Dance Company??
Oh, just you wait and see...

This week we had a campycamp. Amidst the stress (to the point of wanting to pull my hair out), I've come to find I already love them. So much.

These girls are some of the sweetest I've ever met. And if you mess with one of them? You had better plan on messing with all of us. Yep, all twenty-one.

 Ohkay... So we're not all in this picture. nbd

And to Think I Thought...?

My mind is too much to handle. Too. Much. Exhibit 1A: I attended a wonderful farewell today for an exceptional young man. {Quick Side Note: His testimony is so strong and he will, with out a doubt, be a very successful mish mish. He's going to touch many hearts and lives with the Spirit. End Side Note.}

As I attended said farewell, I managed to strike out. For the third time. Forgiveness was no longer an option. I was now discarded. Looked down upon even. One look is all it took. (I know it rhymes. Awk.) Or so I thought.

Here's where it all fits. You see, I have anxieties about people being upset with me, and my mind is very analytical. Even though I'm prone to it (aka females are known for "over-analyzing"), my case is extreme. Exhibit 1B (my mindset): Everything that is said in conversation HAS deeper meaning. It has to. Every look that's given has a silent message. The worst part is, I think every human is like me in this aspect. I subtly hint my feelings to people through word choice and facial expressions. Obv they'll catch on. Wrong. A wise lady once said (something along the lines of), "People are stupid. They just are." Why yes, Miss, they indeed are.

The point is I was wrong (thank the heavens). No more digging for disguised deets.

And How Old Are You, Miss?

For those who know me, you know music has an interestingly large impact on my emotions. Especially in days of late. 

So this one time (today) I was introduced to some impeccable music. As I came across this beautiful eleven year old girl named Anna Graceman, I was indeed moved to tears. And did I mention she's only 11?? Please observe this little angel at work:

Other songs I completely adore:

1. So I Cried
2. Unexpected
3. New Pair of Shoes
4. See You in My Memories

Now children, that's what I like to call talent.

Peace and Blessings,

Lize

When Malaria Meets Cardiac Arrest.

On the evening of the eighth of August, I partook of... substantial cardiac arrest? You'll understand in a moment. Here are some of my faves from this glorious eve (aka my oldest brother's birthday party):

Me, Megs, and Mal

Chuck :)

And there it is. Cardiac Arrest itself. Aka The Luther Burger: A doughnut (cut in half, glazed side in), a Turkey burger patty (beef is fine too, It's just....complicated), bacon, grilled onions, cheese, and bbq sauce. Sounds oob questionable right? But it's SO good.

First bites of the LB.

 The next Bruno Mars?

Later that eve, I stumbled across two insect bites the size of golf balls upon my leg. Can someone say Malaria? They itch. And that is all.

Explanation of Being

So once upon a time,

I started this lovely writing biznatch, but never cared to clue you in on why it exists. Or what in the world the title of it means to me. Here I go.

Blessed with Benevolence? I'm not. Yet. A month or two ago, in my darling thirty-second ward young women's, We had a combined lesson. This lesson consisted of analyzing (breaking down, if you will) the Thirteenth Article of Faith. One of the leaders asked, "Does anyone know what 'Benevolence' really means? We say it every single week, but it gets over looked. What does it mean?"

 

be·nev·o·lence

[buh-nev-uh-luhns]–noun

1. Desire to do good to others; goodwill; charitableness:

2. An act of kindness

3. To genuinely wish someone well.

Obv I've been told over and over countless times in my life to be nice. But on this ordinary Sunday, this word presented itself in a way that hit me harder than a ton of bricks in a pillow case!

Rewind: Something happened. And it took me off guard. I know that's no excuse, but this time... this time was different. The very first time I've been completely stumped. So naturally, I told everyone I was over it, no biggie. On the outside, I'd even convinced myself that I had forgiven them. But on the inside? I held a big FAT grudgie grudge. The worst of the kinds. It ate at me every day. Wore me right down to the core.

Fast Forward: I received a change of heart. And I'm becoming benevolent. And that is all.

Peace and Blessings,

Lize

My Once Upon A Time Begins Now.

Once upon a time, 

I'm a tad behind the rest of the world. NBD. I've always followed mill trill blogs, but never thought I could handle writing one myself. You see, I'm not the most poetic writer, nor am I clever or witty in any way, but you know what?? This blog isn't about trying to be something slash someone I'm not. This one's for me. To express my opinions, thoughts, and emotions to... well, myself. Oh, you may read on if you wish, but I'm just disclaimer-ing you (It's a word. Don't think on it).

I suppose an introduction is in order. My name is Eliza Summerhays. No middle name. But I've always wanted to create one for myself. Like Maynard? I have many nicknames- Liza, Liza Lou, and [my personal fave] Lize- so call me what you will. I am the youngest of NINE (Yep. Count 'em) children. I have naturally semi-curly brown hair. It's conven.  I have a fragile body that likes to dislike me. But as long as I take care of it, it'll take care of me right? Please Bless it does. 

I'm a dancer. I LIVE for it. Picture this: The blaring music vibrates through the room and into the floor, resonating into your very bones. Sweat is drizzling down your face and back, and you are forcing absolutely every fiber of your soul into the movement. When you stop and your heart is racing and you can't breathe. Your legs may or may not be jello. That is what I do. E'ery day of my life. And I can never get enough.

I've been known to form super tight friendships (some of them sisterhoods) with the children in grades older than me. I don't know why, it only hurts worse to say goodbye and start all over the next year, but I do. Sure, I get along with my grade alright, but I'd rather be hangin' with the "big kids". Unfortunately, I'm going to be a senior this year. What am I to do?

I adore peacocks and/or anything that has to do with them. I have the worst phobia of needles. I also happen to be very squeamish. I love Harry Potter. I have a certain fetish with abbreving words, even if they aren't long. And sometimes I repeat words (for emphasis?). I think rhyming in casual conversation is quite awkyawk, but I tend to do it more than anyone I know. I can't share eating utensils with other people. Relative or no, if it touches your mouth, it's not coming anywhere NEAR mine. No sir. I can't watch twitching or convulsing of any sort. If it happens, I close my eyes and hold back tears. I'm learning to like tomatoes, but I'm not too fond of carbonation. I am possibly THEE most indecisive person. Ever. And that, my dear friends, is a PEEK into my lifeylife.

Hoping you are well (whoever "you" is),

Eliza Summerhays