the time i almost went to jail

We all remember my dirty, white creeper van, right? The one that I have the marvelous privilege of driving around in during my “prime years”? Yeah, that one. Oh, the boys I’ve gotten attention from driving around in this thing!!

Before I go into detail of this rather embarrassing event, I’d like to preface by saying that I am a great driver. I’m also extremely sarcastic and terribly bad at lying.

As mentioned in my “vanbuddies” post, I have a great many driving sins and transgressions. The number of parking citations, speeding tickets, and accidents will not be disclosed at this time. However, you are safe in assuming that I’ve had so many of them that it’s caused the amount of points on my license to sky rocket. It was only a matter of time before I would get my license revoked.

The letter came before I was ready. I opened the sealed envelope and read what was staring back at me: “Due to the amount of points on your Utah Driver’s License, you will need to meet with a member of the court to discuss further action regarding your driving privileges.”

I nervously walked into the DMV on my day of reckoning, silently praying that my license wouldn’t be revoked.

The outcome of the visit: I would be on probation for an entire year. Any citations or tickets would result in suspension for a time period of 30 days.

I walked out of the building, determined to never speed again in my entire life.

That determination was very short lived. I hadn’t even made it ¼ of the way through my probation before I was rolling down my window to face the less than pleasant cop.

By now it was practically routine: Get the registration paper out of the glove box. Hand him your license. Apologize for being stupid. And wait.

Part of me nervously anticipated what he would find when he punched my name into his little computer. The possibility of having to forfeit my license and vehicle right there on the freeway became utterly terrifying. Fortunately I was able to continue my drive back home without the police officer possessing the knowledge of my probation.

I began wishfully thinking that somehow the DMV wasn’t notified of my most recent offense. However, those hopes were dashed when I received the letter in the mail; this time calling me to actual court.

The day of my appearance came far too quickly. I walked into the court house and sat down in the back. Never having been in this situation before, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. The people ahead of me were being charged with fines of upwards of thousands of dollars along with receiving jail sentences.

I felt the color drain from my face as my heart began to pound. I nervously rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants as I anticipated the moment they would call out my name.

While trying my hardest to appear confident, my mind was racing: What if I go to jail? I can’t go to jail! I have school… and a job! How will I get a job after going to jail!? Would I even survive in jail? Would they put me with criminals?? Will I have to wear an orange jumpsuit every day?! What about my apartment? Someone will have to move all of my stuff out!

Then, I began to try and see the bright side of going to jail at the young age of twenty: I guess this will help you finally learn your lesson.

You won’t have to buy food or pay for rent for three months!

 By the time you’re out, your missionary friends will be 90 days closer to being home!

The negatives greatly outweighed the positives.

My thoughts were disturbed when I heard them call out, “Cambri Hill”. Here goes nothin.

I walked up to the podium. Smile. Maybe he’ll think you’re a really sweet girl and that you shouldn’t go to jail. I smiled weakly as I squeaked out a shaky, “Hello”.

The judge read what was on my ticket and glanced up at me as he asked, “How do you plead?”

Oh my gosh. I have to plead?! This is the type of stuff you watch in movies!!.

“Guilty.”

Here it comes. Jail. 90 days. I’m ready.

I left with a fine and suspended license. Hopping into my car, I let out an exasperated sigh as I looked up at the nasty grey roof of my van. Thank you!!!!!

Side note: as a result of my stubbornness, my parents were unaware that any of this was happening. And because of that fact, I was forced to drive around in my minivan illegally.

It didn’t take long before the flashing blue and red lights appeared in my rear view window. My fist pounded the steering wheel before I began the search to find my license. I wasn’t even speeding!

One would say I have terrible luck. And I would agree.

I rolled down the window and plastered on the nicest smile I could. “Hi, officer. Was I speeding?”

“No. Your registration is expired. Were you aware of that?”

No. No I wasn’t.

Miracle of miracles, I was set free, without him even looking at my license – er, revoked license.

I immediately began the process to getting it registered. I could not get pulled over again.

Just as luck would have it, the process to getting my lovely van registered took far too long, and this time, the cop discovered my secret. I informed my dad of the ticket I had received, assuming I would just take care of the fines myself. However, he was determined to pay. I immediately regretted telling him I had ever received the ticket – I knew that if he dug enough, he would come to find that I was driving with a revoked license.

So I did what any smart, sophisticated individual would do: hide. Everything.

Each time I went home, I knew I would be asked if I had called on my ticket; “Oh. I forgot. I’ll do that tomorrow.” He would periodically ask, “Where’s your ticket?” And I would respond, “I left it at my apartment.”

Finally, my dad’s patience had run out and he resorted to calling on the ticket himself. And it just so happened, the day of my now second court appearance, was when he decided to call.

I left my class at UVU and shamefully drove to the American Fork Judicial Court building. I parked my car and slumped my shoulders as I walked inside, took off everything metal, and stepped through the security system – if only I was at the airport instead, getting on a one-way flight to Hawaii.

I walked into the court room, and again, sat as close as I could to the back, watching as numerous people bustled in. My mind began to wander; what if this is the time I actually go to jail? So I pulled out my phone and went to the one place where all of life’s questions are addressed: Google.

I clicked on the first link that popped up: Yahoo! Answers. The girl explained her situation (much similar to mine) and asked if she would be going to jail.

Every. Single. Answer confirmed her worst fear (and mine).

Upon realizing that Google would provide no relief, I looked up to see a tall, skinny brunette frantically run inside. She had on dirty sneakers, yoga pants, and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back from her make-up free face. Ha. I thought. That looks like my…

Mom?!!

My eyes widened. What is she doing here?! I was caught. I cocked my head to the side, attempting to hide my presence as I slowly sunk as deep as I could into the bench. Maybe she won’t notice?

My phone lit up with a text that read: Where are you? Dad called on your ticket. You have an appearance in court right now!

Both realizing and accepting that I would not be able to somehow magically melt away, I responded: Look to your left.

Our eyes met. “What are you doing here?!” She mouthed.

Moments after confessing to my mother, my name was called. I squared my shoulders and straightened my shirt as I struggled to confidently walk up to the podium. The two note-takers looked up at the judge and said, “Oh. Miss Hill will be late. Her father called in and said she was at school.”

The judge looked at me through her glasses and said, “Does your Father know you aren’t in school?”

After receiving the appropriate consequence of my actions, I left the court room, my mother in tow. I expected a good scolding and a “you need to be more careful” talk on the way out of the court room. I prepared my eyes to start rolling and my breath to start sighing.

She laughed. “Thanks for a tour of the Judicial Court House! I should have taken a picture of you up there!”

What!?

***

There are three conclusions that have risen from this oh-so-embarrassing story of mine:

Number one: Be good to your Mom. One day she may be running into a court room after being at the gym to explain why you’re missing (even if you really aren’t).

Number two: This would make for a great story, someday.

I didn’t realize that “someday” would be so soon after. The wound of embarrassment is still fresh as ever. But upon realizing that my mother’s newest goal was to share this humorous adventure with any and every soul that she could, I found it best to expose it now.

It’ll be good for posterity. Right?

And number three: Have I learned my lesson?

I guess we’ll find out.

the mall kiosk

If you've ever successfully escaped one of the mall kiosk associates... you're definitely one of a kind. And you NEED to share your tactics with me.

A few months ago I was walking through the mall, stopping occasionally to browse over the stores merchandise. Upon hitting the personal spending limit I set for myself before entering the mall, I began the trek back to my car... er, van.

I began glancing at the small kiosk's that spotted the interior of the mall. Some were selling green tea or splat balls. Others had curling irons and protein powders. And I had somehow managed to dodge every single one of them! A feeling of pride began to well up in my chest.

Until... she spotted me.

The facial cream, moisturizing, skin exfoliating mall kiosk employee.

Our eyes met for a brief second and a pang of worry resonated inside of me. Please don't stop me. Please don't stop me.

"Hi! Do you have a moment to try out our new product?"

It seemed as though she recognized my look of unsurety. She walked over to me and slipped her arm through mine as she guided me back to the stool placed underneath the green kiosk umbrella.

"Um. Sure." I barely mustered out.

She began opening bottles and pouring creams and jellies onto my arm. While "waiting" for the product to take effect, she said "I just moved here from Jerusalem yesterday. Utah is so nice!" I plastered a smile on my face and nodded my head.

After what seemed like an eternity of unwanted small talk, she looked down at my arm and gasped at the changes her magical scrub and cream had done. I realized she wasn't going to stop talking about it until I agreed with her.

She began boxing up a set of the products and walked over to her cash register. "Do you know how much this is?" I shook my head and began to protest that I really didn't want to spend any more money. "You're a student, aren't you?? I'll knock it down $100!"

Wow. $100? Can they even take that much off?

I shook the thought out of my head and again opened my mouth to explain to her that I truly did not want the product.

"I'll throw in free soap!"

Free soap, too?!

And then all of the sudden, I found myself handing her my debit card. My knuckles turned white from gripping so hard on the new bag of moisturizers I had just acquired as I watched her swipe the card.

Well. There goes the weekly b-dubs dinner for the next two weeks. And that book I was going to order online. Oh, and there goes my food.

I immediately began plotting to return each of the products at another time. Can you even return items to mall kiosks? But rather than risk being caught returning her beloved items, I began going through what I had bought previous to being taken captive by the nice Jerusalem lady.

"Want to go grab coffee?" I looked up at the lady and tried to kindly explain I didn't drink coffee. "Oh. Well, lunch?" I looked down at my phone and told her I had somewhere to be (I needed to make my escape!) "Ok! I will write down my email and phone number and you can tell me how much you like my product!"

I patiently waited for her to write down her information. I looked around at the countless people scurrying in and out of stores as they dodged the kiosks. The lucky souls.

It was almost as if the hundreds of passerby's were expressing their gratitude to me, for taking one for the team. I sat there, slumped in the cheap stool, thinking about my now drained bank account.

I had entered enemy territory and lost the battle.

After awkwardly taking the paper from her hands and attempting to escape an unwanted hug, I slowly walked away, feeling down, discouraged, and defeated.

I put my new items onto the bathroom counter and neglected them for what seemed like weeks. She promised the product would last a year and suddenly I realized it was only because I wasn't actually going to use them - they even had the potential to last multiple years.

One day I decided to try them out. I opened each of the bottles and racked my brain to remember exactly which order to use them. I sat down at my computer and searched for some instruction.

My research shed some rather unfortunate light: I bought water and salt.

I really need to learn how to say no.



[Enjoy this video done by Studio C. They know my pain.]

van buddies

It's off - white in color (only because of the dirt that has accumulated on its surface) and often has a light out. The rubber outlining the windshield has come loose and often likes to flap and pound mercilessly while I'm driving on the free way. There's a big stain on the carpet in between the two front seats and old stickers cling for dear life on the walls throughout the car. The DVD player has been kicked off (courtesy of the younger siblings) and has left behind some pretty looking red and green wires for decoration.

The heater usually won't kick on until I'm already parking my car and there's a penny stuck inside the CD player that makes listening to my coveted BYU Vocal Point CD impossible. The windshield cleaner in the back sprays inside, rather than actually doing what it's supposed to do and the passenger window will roll down, but not always up.

The "check engine" light pops on every few days for a visit and the temperature gauge will often get too close to the red, "hot" line. Every once and a while the speedometer will decide it's going to give me a heart attack by saying I'm going 20 mph over the speed limit - and sometimes it'll even trick me into thinking I'm going 110 mph on a 70 mph free way.

I guess you could call this car... unique.

I believe that this vehicle that causes quite the road rage and headaches is punishment for my driving sins. The mercy from the parentals had finally run out and I was destined to drive around in this dirty, rubber flapping van (after having the chance to drive two nicer vehicles - which is another story that most likely will not be shared at a later time).

It's great for showing off to all them cute college boys, ya know? (not)

In order to park in the parking lot at Carriage Cove you have to buy a parking pass. And in order to get that parking pass you have to share what kind of vehicle you have.

I briefly contemplated saying that I had a super nice red sports car with racing stripes... but then she asked for my registration. Reluctantly I handed her the old piece of paper and she wrote down all of the information on my Chevy Venture white van and handed me the little yellow parking sticker.

It didn't take long for me to notice that literally nobody else in the Carriage Cove parking lot owned a van (I've even circled around to the boys side to double check). Nobody.

What single college student owns a van??

I'm always on the lookout for other people roaming around outside to make sure they won't see me getting inside of my van. Upon being spotted, I usually walk in the opposite direction or even past my car so as not to give away the owner of the ONLY van in the parking lot. After parking the van at the end of the day I see just how fast I can get inside so nobody catches me shamefully getting out and locking the door.

After a few months the shameful walks and embarrassed feelings were beginning to subside. It took a while to convince myself that "it's just a car... it gets you from A to B, be grateful it works!" or "you're just getting a head start on the whole van mom, thing."

Eventually the August contracts had ended and the old people moved out and the new ones moved in. That meant new cars in the Carriage Cove parking lot.

And one day... I spotted it. The dark grey van. Parked. In the Carriage Cove parking lot.

After the first sighting my hopes were peaked - was there really another van in the parking lot?! I quickly told myself that it was probably just a one time thing... somebody's mom was helping them move all of their stuff into their apartment or something.

But I saw it the next day. And the next day. And the next! Needless to say I was beyond excited to see a second van in the parking lot. It didn't take long to notice that the quality and state of this van was much, MUCH better than the one in my current possession...

But oh well! I'm just excited to have a van buddy to keep me company!!!

my credit card addiction

I'm really good at spending money. Like, really good. And I'm terrible at saving it. Once I get my pay check I'm off to the store to buy that perfume I love or those yellow shoes I've been eyeing since last Tuesday. It doesn't help that I have an expensive taste, either.

One day I decided to get a credit card......

Bad idea.

Immediately I began spending all the credit I had on the card and before I knew it I had used it all up. I stared down at my bank statement and read how much money I owed. 

For some reason I don't think I fully understood what a credit card was until I owed way more money than I actually had. I looked at all of the nice things I had gotten and then back at the statement. I felt sick.

Going shopping makes me feel happy. I love trying on clothes and feeling cute in a new outfit. Once I have my hands on something I love there is little to no thought about how expensive it is; I just swipe my card and walk out with my new purchases, grinning from ear to ear.

Sometimes I get home and look at the bags and think: you should probably take this all back to the store. But then I think about how cute that cardigan is and I remember all of the outfits I can create with it.

This sounds like "Confessions of a Shopaholic."

If only they had Shopaholics Anonymous meetings (they actually do, but they seem too sketchy to actually attend)......

After spending way too much money on this credit card, I determined (actually my dad recommended I get rid of the "dang thing") that I should cut it up.

The first time I attempted to cut it, I just couldn't. I looked at the dark, sparkly grey card and almost felt bad for even thinking about destroying it. So back into the wallet it went.

A few weeks later I was staring at another gut - sickening bill. Okay. After I pay this bill back we WILL get rid of the credit card.

So I paid all of the money back and found myself, once again, with a pair of scissors in my right hand and my evil sparkly credit card in my left.

It was almost as if, in that moment, a little white angel and red devil appeared on either shoulder.

Part of me was trying to convince myself that I needed to relieve myself of the burdensome credit card. I didn't have money to continue paying back so many bills. The other half of me loudly screamed: YOU NEED A CREDIT CARD! My mind began going through all of the "what ifs". What if I have an emergency? What if I run out of money somehow? What if my car breaks down and I have to call a tow truck? What if I need to buy a skirt for that missionary homecoming? What if ...

So I tossed the scissors aside and made myself promise I wouldn't spend a single penny on something I didn't 100% absolutely need.

By now you can probably guess what happened. A few weeks later I was yet again staring at a bill that was way too high for comfort. This time, I really did cut it up. A moment of silence followed as I looked at the broken plastic pieces that lay on the table in front of me. For a split second I thought, "Oh my gosh. What did I do?!" And then a wave of relief washed over me.

However, that relief only lasted for a brief time. After realizing that I no longer had a piece of plastic that I could swipe and instantly have whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it.... the withdrawals came.

I would be in a dressing room, trying on clothes, only to realize I didn't have my credit card to use anymore. So I would leave empty handed, with my shoulders slumped and my head turned slightly downward all the while trying to erase the memories of the cute peplum top or the floral shoes. I would be out to dinner with friends, thinking I didn't want the money to come out of my checking account, so I'd reach for my credit card only to realize it wasn't in its normal spot. A pang of sadness would resonate through me as I'd hand my debit card over to the waiter. Walking through store isles and seeing all of the fun and exciting things I could buy became all but fun and exciting - those isles are now avoided like the plague.

I would like to say that the visits to Buffalo Wild Wings have subsided but let's be really real - they haven't. However, as I'm coming out of the withdrawal stages of my credit card addiction, I'm starting to see the green grass... and it's greener than I thought it was.

Not having to stare down at a HUGE bill every few weeks has become quite nice. The relief from knowing that I'm not spending more money than I actually have is far greater than the twinge of sadness I feel when I can't splurge while shopping at Maurice's - no matter how much I want to. Knowing that I only have a set amount of money in my bank account has helped me to see what I absolutely need to buy and what I absolutely do NOT need to buy.

Adulting is fun........ right??

1,836

Disclaimer: I'm about to embarrass myself and I kind of can't believe I'm actually putting this in a post.

After deciding that I no longer wanted to further my education at BYU-Idaho, I took a break. And it was nice. I just had to work and do marching band and I didn't have any homework or weird professors to worry about. I didn't have to hike up a hill to get to my math class nor did I have to stress about making that midnight deadline before the science homework timed out and I got an F.

Being away from the college scene was nice. So nice that I even toyed with the idea of not getting a college degree. I have a nice job - I get paid very well and work with some great people (my mother included). I could make it through life forever working at OneExchange and be just fine.

However, after 7 or 8 months, I actually began to miss school - kind of. Once I decided that Music Education was NOT a good fit for me I didn't know what to do. So I put school off another semester, vowing to re-apply to UVU for the Fall semester.

And I did! I re-submitted my application and was accepted. Then I had to jump through a TON of hoops; go to an orientation, submit my transcripts, meet with a counselor, etc. It was annoying. So annoying I contemplated not doing school for another semester.

But I pushed through the annoying holds and slowly but surely I got rid of them all and was able to sign up for classes. I only signed up for two: math and health.

The first day of math class came too quickly. I wasn't prepared to be in math again. Especially at 8:00. On a Saturday morning.

My professor looked up from his computer and pushed up his glasses as he smiled tiredly. "Good morning." Each of us grumbled out our own "good mornings" which actually meant, "I want my bed."

He walked around to the front of his podium and folded his arms. "What in the world are you all doing here on a Saturday morning?"

I'm wondering the same thing.

"And in a class that's almost four hours?"

Don't remind me.

"You're all crazy."

I know.

After going through the syllabus and Chapter 1, I determined that, with work, I could pass this class.

Now, before you continue to read, you must understand two things: 1) I've always struggled with math. Whether or not that's because I actually worked hard in order to try and understand it or not is irrelevant. 2) I took a math class in Idaho but gave up trying relatively quickly. So, if we don't include the BYU-Idaho math class, I haven't been in a math class since 2012 - that's a LONG time.

The second class was much harder than the first. 8:00 seemed to come far too early and already I didn't care what others thought about my appearance; so up went the hair and on came the band T-shirt, which allowed me to sleep another thirty minutes before I had to leave at the absolute last possible second.

I walked into class and slumped into my chair, still trying to wake up my tired eyes.

"Quiz time!"

Oh yeah. I forgot we do that.

I pulled out my paper and began answering the questions he had prepared. The quiz was only four questions. It was easy peasy.

I got to number 3. The question was: 6^3.

Cool. This is easy.

So I wrote out my work: 6*6*6.

Okay. So 6*6 equals 36.

I wrote it down on the paper. Then I stared. I had to do 36*6 but didn't know if off the top of my head and unfortunately I couldn't use a calculator.

Oh! I'll just do the cool multiply thingy!

So I wrote down 36*6. I knew I had to do 6*6 again, which was 36. So I wrote down 36 (without carrying the 3 up to the top). Then I multiplied 6*3 and got 18.

Sweet! 1,836!

I boxed my answer and moved on to number four. Which was seemingly just as easy as the previous three questions. I confidently turned my paper into the professor and waited for him to tell us the answers.

Everything was going perfectly until he said the answer to number three: 216.

What?!

My eyes widened. It took everything I had not to raise my hand and blurt: "Um. Excuse me? But you're wrong." I looked around at the other students and noticed nobody else was squirming in their seats.

I pulled out my calculator and did the math. The number 216 stared back at me.

How?! I even double - checked my work!!

I re - typed it into the calculator and clicked enter. Nothing changed. I scratched my forehead, trying to figure out what I had done wrong.

Oh. You're supposed to carry the 3....

I don't want to know what my professor thought when he looked at my work to number three.

At first, I was frustrated with my stupidity. How can you forget how to do multiplication after doing it so many times for so many years?! They ingrain it into your soul!! Needless to say I've kicked myself a few times for that mistake. But on the bright side, I'll never forget that 216 is the answer to 6^3.

After the 'incident', I vowed that I wouldn't tell a single soul about my lack of remembering how to do simple multiplication. However, once my dad asked how math was going I couldn't stifle the laugh. I trifled with the thought of telling him, knowing that he'd get a good laugh out of it.

I stood up, went to the office and grabbed a pen and a paper and then walked back into the kitchen and began to explain to him what I had done on my quiz the previous day.

He laughed.

I laughed.

We laughed.

Then I realized that this was actually really funny. So I told everybody. They all laughed. And I laughed with them.

One of my absolute favorite quotes comes from Sister Marjorie Pay Hinckley: "The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache."

Now, obviously I didn't cry at my lack of intelligence in the math department, but I could have chosen to be more discouraged and frustrated about it. After all, that one little answer (or big if you refer to 1,836 rather than 216) ended up giving me a 75% on my quiz.

Life is about choices. We can't often choose exactly what will happen to us but we can choose how we will react.. "Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of his human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." -Viktor E. Frankl (Man's Search for Meaning)

In the end this little quiz won't have much of an impact on my life... or my final math grade for that matter. However, I'm always going to get a good laugh out of this embarrassing moment if I choose to. And just like Sister Hinckley said, laughing about it is much better than crying.

Life is full of choices. We can choose to be miserable or happy. What you choose is up to you.

sure gonna miss these three :)

These three beautiful girls are going off to college this Saturday and I'm pretty sure I'm going to miss them like cRaZy. Each one of them have made my life so much better and not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for each of them.

EmmaLee

I met EmmaLee our first year of band, although I didn't really know her until our first year of Marching Band in 2009. We've played the flute together for almost six years. She's been an AMAZING flute player since day one and I'm glad I was able to have her as such a great example in band! 

We were in every single girls choice dance group together. I wouldn't want it any different. She made each dance so much fun and I'm SO glad we were able to be together for each of them. And I'm so happy we were able to see each other in our SUPER pretty dresses at PROM :) :) :).

Pretty sure EmmaLee was the best flute section leader ever :). So glad I was able to be in the flute section while she was section leader. She has always been a good example to me of what a good leader should be. 

EmmaLee and I didn't become really good friends until 2011, and I'll never forget the day her "group" let me in. I'm so thankful I became such good friends with her and that we've been able to stay that way ever since.

EmmaLee, thanks for being my bestest friend in the whole entire world!!

Thanks for your never ending example of what a true friend should be. You've always been there for me for the past few years and I hope and pray our friendship will forever remain the same. 

I've loved being in marching band with you and being able to work hard and perform amazing things with you for four years.

Thank you for your smile. I'm pretty sure there was a never a day when you weren't smiling. You're always so positive and bubbly and want to make everybody happy. Thank you for that :).

Thank you for your amazing testimony as well. You shine with the light of Christ and I couldn't be more thankful for that. You're an amazing example of someone who knows she is a beloved daughter of God.

Thank you for all the fun times and memories. I will remember and cherish them forever and ever. I know we'll have many more great ones.

I wish you the best of luck down at Snow. You're going to do amazing things and I can't wait to hear all about them and visit you AS SOON AS YOU COME HOME (I'm dead serious)!!

I'm going to miss you SOOOOO much!! But have so much fun :)

love,

cam :)

Morgan

Oh Morgan :). Morgan has been through three years of marching band with me and I'm so glad I was able to have her as an example of a GREAT flutist as well. 

Morgan is probably one of my most favorite people EVER. She's always so happy and I LOVE that. She can make anybody smile and have a good time :). There has never been a dull moment with Morgan.

Morgan, thanks for being just the greatest! I missed you SO much last year while you were at college and I know I'm going to miss you just as much if not more this year while you're gone again.

Thank you for your positive and happy example. You've never been negative or rude to anyone and I'm so thankful for that. 

Thank you for being such a great example of a what a strong woman should be. I look up to you in a gazillion ways and hope to someday be like you :). 

Good luck in college!!!! I can't wait to see you soon!

love,

cam :)

Syvanna

Syvanna was my first friend when I moved to Utah and she quickly became my best friend. I'm pretty sure we hung out almost every day. I was always at her house and she was always at mine.

She is probably one of the cRaZiEsT people I know but I LOVE her to death! She knows how to make anyone smile big and laugh their guts out.

Syvanna,

Thank you for being such an INCREDIBLE friend to me. I miss the days when we used to "live" at each others homes and play every day. But I'm glad we've been able to spend some time together before you leave for school.

Thanks for always having a blast with me :). There is really never a dull moment with you. Even though we fought a lot, I still loved you like a sister.

Thank you for showing my what a true best friend is. I'm so glad we were able to be so close and I hope that that will never change. Stay amazing :).

Can't wait to see and hear from you again. Good luck in college. I'll miss you!!

love,

cam :)

"The most beautiful discovery true friends can make is that they can grow separately without growing apart." Elizabeth Foley. I absolutely LOVE this quote! I've had a few friends worry about wether or not we will stay friends once they or I leave for college. And the answer is a loud "OF COURSE!!". 

I have been blessed with some of the most amazingly incredible friends. Each of them has a strong testimony of this gospel and are traveling in the right path. Could there be any better examples? I'm SO grateful to Heavenly Father for blessing me with each of them. They've each taught valuable lessons to me and created memories I'll never forget.

Thanks for being such great friends. I wish you all the best of luck and I know you'll do amazing. I'll miss you :)