Freshman Follies

A buddy from my freshman year at BYU has a blog, I just found out. He's pretty funny. I'm pretty sure I died laughing several times while reading his latest posts. But I'm like a cat with the nine-lives-thing, so it's all good. In one post he described a made-up scenario of a discussion between him and Peter at the "pearly gates," Peter informing him and his family (who had apparently died by being mauled by a pack of wild dogs) that Milli Vanilli was up on tour, having been sent to Perdition for the whole bearing false witness thing. (If any of this makes you laugh, remember he wrote this, not me) I responded to the post. "Dude, Milli Vanilli?! Wait... they're dead?" I wasn't trying to "catch" him in anything-- I was just being a smart aleck. But he did respond to my comment commending me on foiling his story, and then informed me that one of his old posts mentions me, but that he wouldn't tell which one to make me have to read them all to find it. Nice.

So I started reading. Well, scanning is more like it. I started with the posts from 2007-- all 66 of them. I scanned through to the bottom. Took me about twenty minutes. After scanning the last post, I started to scroll back up when I immediately passed by a post I hadn't scanned the first time. And there it was... in all it's glory. My reference.

"During the same show, I accompanied a cute girl from my ward on guitar as she beautifully sang an obscure Roxette song. In a display of random spontaneity, I tried to harmonize with her during the chorus despite the fact that I don't know how. Some might say I ruined the song. Revisionist historians, however, are already declaring that I 'provided a brilliant, post-modern backdrop of dissonance to an otherwise tired, clichéd melody.'"

I laughed... and HAD to tell Kev about this. Reliving the moment. What this friend doesn't realize is at the time I had a MASSIVE crush on him, having asked him to do a talent show number with me just to get to hang out with him more. I even had another friend tape record the show so I could have a copy of the moment to watch over and over and over again... like those psycho obsessed stalker girls. Yeah, I guess I was sort of like that. I ended up chewing out said friend after he gave me a copy of the show-- the camera had died right before our song, so it wasn't on the tape.

I was bitter the rest of the school year.

What I came to realize as I related all this to Kev, was that I didn't just love my freshman year at BYU, but thinking of those memories puts me in my own happy place. The immaturity, the innocence and stupidity-- unmatched, and in a category all it's own.

I reminisced about the few times I walked with Jean past the windows of the Cougar Cove on a Sunday evening, where diners sat along the windows . As we walked by the windows, I'd walk really close to the poles just outside them, discreetly kicking one with my clunky wooden heel, then covering my forehead and wincing in "pain." Jean would play along. Gullible freshmen on the other side of the windows would press their faces to the glass in concern.

Or I thought about standing on the grassy knoll outside U-Hall with Rick, acting out the scene in The Princess Bride where Buttercup pushes Wesley down the hill. I'd shove Rick, and he'd leap and roll down the hill shouting, "As... you... wiiish!" I'd say, "Oh, my sweet Wesley, what have I done!" plunging myself down the hill after him. We did over and over, providing entertainment to everyone coming home from a long day of classes.

I smiled at the thought of my friends nicknaming me "Do do d'do d'do" because of the message I recorded for our dorm room voice mail-- "Do do d'do d'do (sung, like a horn announcing a royal entrance), KRISSY KIDWELL!... and Angela." I wasn't trying to be a jerk, and Angela actually thought it was pretty funny, so I didn't feel all that bad. But it made for a great nickname.

Making dumb movies, playing ping pong, serenading the guys' dorms with Sarah and actually collecting a dollar or so in tips, shooting pine nuts through giant Pixie Stick straws at annoying guys during visiting hours... again, with Sarah...

Maybe it's weird, but thinking about all these memories makes me feel... warm. I honestly can't help but be happy. And not that I'd want to go back to that time-- I've moved on, and the memories I'm making now are unmatched as well, but just in a completely different category.

But I cherish that time I had to act stupid when no one would think any less of me. Okay, so maybe most people thought I was an idiot, but at least they kept their lame opinions to themselves.