dear moscow high school…

Dear Moscow High School,

We have had a great four years together. Though many times I openly cursed you and rarely was I present for the whole SEVEN hour day (seven hours!), I’d like to thank you for everything.

Thank you to the teachers, both the good ones and the bad ones, for teaching me daily how to text behind my back, utilize SparkNotes, and build the perfect barrier for sleeping during class. Oh, and thank you, dear teachers, for being so kind when you woke me up, you truly mastered the gentle yet firm tap on the shoulder.

Thank you for the bathrooms that were seemingly ALWAYS occupied whenever I had to do some serious bathroom business every morning and after lunch (blame the Fiber One bars…). And thank you for the etchings in the stalls, especially the one that said ‘Why so serious?’ with the reply ‘Because I’m taking a s&*%!’ written right underneath. That one made me chuckle.

Thank you for the school dances that always served as an affirmation that I am, indeed, as white as they come and do, indeed, have no rhythm…whatsoever. Also thank you for having no rhyme or reason to the songs you played, dear dances, and constantly playing songs that no one knew how to dance to including ‘Gold Digger’ (inevitable: fake shoveling), ‘Airplanes’, and the legendary ‘Come Sail Away.’ Also thank you for always playing ‘Hot in Here’ by Nelly and making it easier to weed out the d-bags (answer: the ones who, at the end of the dance, are in their wife beaters…yelk).

Thank you, dear high school, for providing me with friends of all sorts and also for Arts Fest, I liked that. Thank you for old-fashioned chocolate milk in the vending machines (but NOT for jacking the prices up a quarter this year!) and packs of gum for $.75 at the student store. Thank you for making it so easy to unblock YouTube and Facebook at school and thank you for gossip magazines and comfy couches in the library.

Thank you for 4 years, good days and bad days included. Well, maybe not ALL the bad days (like the one where my iPod was stolen, or the one where some boy ate my entire lunch including my peanut butter and banana sandwich, red jello, and carrot sticks).

Thank you for all of it. But most of all, thank you for only being over.

Sort of sincerely,

Brooke Mosman

elementary school talent show

For my entire high school career, final’s week always warranted for minimum sleep, thousands of note cards, unkempt hair, and zits. I am always cramming in as much information as I can and trying to make up for sleeping and texting all day during classes. I remember in 10th grade, I was so stressed that my mother gave me some aroma-therapy lilac smelling deliciousness to relieve some of my franticness. She also gave me a flask full of whiskey, engraved with the phrase ‘Good luck, favorite child!’, but that is besides the point.

This year, however, has been different. Finals week has been a breeze. Last night I opted out of studying and instead made cookies (well, I watched the Real Housewives Finale as the bearded one made cookies–they were chocolate chip with Oreo cookies inside of them; inventive, no?) and this morning I went for a seven mile run (irrelevant and a lie; but it impressed you, right?).

To further prove my point, I am currently typing this during a finals session. Point proven.

Moving on. For the Advanced Placement Spanish class (yes, Advanced Placement) final today we walked up to the elementary school to watch our teacher’s daughter’s performance. Right when we walked in I spotted an open seat right in the middle of the parent’s section and quickly took advantage of it (I fit right in, I was wearing my mom short’s). A few parent’s eyed me, trying to figure out who my child was, but quickly turned back to watch the girl singing a wonderfully terrible ‘Firework’ by Katy Perry. I snickered to myself at these parents, thinking that I was a mom, and snickered some more at the rest of my class, forced to stand in the back.

I began to get really into the show. I yelled for the two boys with faux hawks (why?!) who shot hoops for a minute as their talent (they were 7/20…they really need to start making cuts at these deals), giggled furiously at the skinny girl who mumbled through ‘Purple People Eater’ and gawked openly at the surprising number of DILFS at this elementary school (a SURPRISING amount!).

Then, it began. The chubby boy who sported a bowl-cut and yellow cut-off shirt sauntered on up to the microphone and announced that he would be singing a rendition of ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ He started off quietly and gradually worked into a stand up performance complete with yelling, panting, dancing, and overhead clapping (MY FAVORITE!). Naturally, I joined in on the overhead clap and exchanged glances with the kid’s parents (how did I know? the dad was ALSO sporting a cutoff)(…not a dilf).

I began to wonder where my Advanced Placement Spanish class was at the end of JV Survivor’s rockstar performance (standing ovations aren’t contagious? whatttt?!) and turned to give the room a quick scan.

Long story shorter: THEY  HAD LEFT ME! Apparently my Spanish teacher’s daughter had already performed so they had left five minutes after arriving. I had been sitting, swaying, giggling and overhead clapping completely alone while my Advanced Placement Spanish class was back in the room, studying for the final like most normal high schoolers. I snuck out of the small auditorium, making sure to congratulate yellow cutoff boy, and walk-sprinted down to the high school. As I tore through the doors of my Advanced Placement Spanish class, they merely laughed and continued on studying. Anticlimactic.

Oh well, I would trade all the precious study minutes in the world to see that chubby little man singing his heart out again.

p.s. I am currently loving on this song and video. Her little tap dance jig makes me really, really excited for my tap dancing class at BYU. Say hello, calf muscles.

love note to may

Sweet mother of pearl, its June. The month of May flew by like a Peregrine Falcon (which is the fastest bird in the world, wouldn’t you know). Even though I love June, I really do, I find myself getting all nostalgic over May (I get nostalgic over a lot of things lately: old Disney TV shows, having no finals, a fast metabolism, when Nene Leaks wasn’t annoying, elementary school in its entirety).May was my favorite. It was like the Chandler of Friends (are you a Chandler fan? I’m a Chandler fan) or the purple and red skittles. May was picnics and puppies and amusement parks and my last school dance ever and allergies and bike riding and large, succulent burgers. May was 31 best days ever!And now it’s June. And June is graduating and packing and moving and college and new roommate awkwardness (it’s inevitable; hypothetically speaking, if roommate is talking while changing, do you continue conversation and just don’t look at them? or do you continue conversation while continuing to look at them…changing? ) and ninety degree weather in Utah (and being modest in ninety degree weather just sounds daunting!).

So this is my love note to May.