Kicking Myself Later...

I am a girl of extremes. If I do something, I do it dramatically and with fervor. Sometimes that is a good characteristic, like when playing a major role in a ward Road Show. Other times, however, it is less good...

...Like how I don't usually get embarrassed, but when it happens, I can't forget about it--I'm a dweller. I either let it bounce off me, or I get embarrassed to the max. I can still remember, for example, the time I was 13 and took my best friend to a ward outing and we met some boys to whom I made the comment, "Mountain View sucks butt!" and immediately regretted it. Quite horrific, and it was even around a campfire, so the boys couldn't really see us. I felt so silly, though, and am dwelling on it almost 8 years later.

Practising pirate faces can be embarrassing if captured on the digital memory of a camera...

Another time, I was riding in the backseat of a Volkswagen Jetta. There were two boys in the front seat: one I had a little inkling for, the other was his friend (who later turned out to propose to me). And I asked the first boy--the inkling boy--flat-out if he had a girlfriend (when it was obvious he'd been flirting with me all night). I thought it would be funny, but it turned out that he actually was seeing another girl at the time, so there was a pregnant pause and then he replied, "Yes". I then turned to the other boy, mortified, and tried to save face. "Oh, well," I said casually, "then you and I should go on a date sometime!" A voice inside my head was saying, "Camille, you are a complete idiot! You should be locked up and fed sardines on saltines for the rest of your life--you don't deserve to exist in public." Amazingly enough, boy #2 agreed to going out with me, and somehow grew to love the dork-off that is me. (Either that, or he is marrying me out of the same pity he felt for me that night.)

I wonder why I have such a hard time forgiving myself my trespasses...

Sometimes I think it is going to be so wonderful to move to Canada, where very few people know the real me. That way, when I get there, I can start fresh, and always think before I speak, and then maybe nobody will ever find out about how socially backwards I actually am at times. Canada is a sweet escape.