Sunday, May 25, 2014


Hi. My name is Elizabeth Berrett, and most of you probably didn't know I was even in this class. And no, it is not because I am a tourist. I just like being in the backround and listening to everyone else. Is that a bad thing? You decide.

Let's see. What do Julianna Jane and I have in common? Not a lot, except for the fact that we hate feet and love music. That's about it. She is so much braver than I'll ever be. She's more blunt with her feelings and isn't afraid to say what's on her mind. But I'm learning from her. I've been making friends, getting out of my comfort zone, and taking #risks and asking myself WWJD? (what would Julianna do)

But enough about her. I want to tell you about myself.
I was born in Riverton, Utah and moved to Highland when I was four. I've never moved since. I've told people that I hate living in Utah, but that is the biggest lie. If I lived anywhere else I'd probably be on drugs. So yes, I do love this bubble I live in.

I have the most amazing family in the world. A lot of people think that I don't like my brother because he never calls me. For a while, I hated him and didn't consider him family. But then I realized I was being selfish because he's out serving this country and making it possible for everyone else to have their freedom. I love my brother. I get in too many arguments with my mom. She thinks I don't talk to her much. I don't talk much at home. Ever. She thinks I have some sort of depression and that any day I could take my life. Honestly, I don't talk to her because I'm afraid that she'll be dissapointed in what I say. But I do love her and care about her, I just don't know how to say it.

I got my arm pulled out of my socket when I was one, I broke my arm when I was two, I had to get stitches in the second grade because I fell, I broke my pinky in the seventh grade because I ran in the railing, I sprained my ankle in ninth grade and I hyperextended my knee last summer. My life is full of mistakes and accidents.

I am really bipolar when it comes to people. I will either love you, or be terrified of you. There is no in between. I am honestly the most awkward person you will ever meet. I really do love meeting new people, but when it happens I get shakey, my face turns red way too often, and I accidently say really stupid things. And then I remember it for the rest of my life.

I really don't think anyone will even care about this post, but it feels good to let people know why I do certain things and who I actually am.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

I Remember

I remember my first crush. It was in kindergarten and he had red hair. I remember my second grade crush. I thought I was in love with him and that we were going to get married. I remember the day he said that my hair looked weird and then he threw play-dough at my face. I remember my first boyfriend. That lasted for a day. Relationships aren't meant for first graders. Well that's what I told myself when he broke my heart.

I remember recess. Playing tag and thinking I was so cool because I was hanging out with the popular boys. I remember my best friend. I remember the day I fell and had to get stitches. She was right by my side the whole time. I remember the day we had to go to a new school and she moved. It was so hard to make friends with out her. I remember we would try to see each other as often as possible. I remember when we started to grow apart. I remember the day we stopped talking. I still regret not texting her back, but I'm scared to text her now because it might be awkward.

I remember trying to fit in when I was in middle school. I remember ninth grade and the hell I went through everyday because of the rude things everyone would say to me. They thought it was ok and wasn't hurting me at all. It was. I remember valentines day when I got that note in my locker. You could tell it was written by a girl who wrote it with her left hand pretending to be a guy.  I remember the hurtful things it said. Telling me to stop talking so much and to actually wear makeup. I remember the day I started to wear makeup and stopped talking.

I remember starting high school terrified of everyone because I thought they were all secretly making fun of me. I remember hating everyone. I remember actually caring what everyone thought of me. I remember being miserable. I remember the day I became friends with that one person. They reached out to me. They changed my life forever. I remember realizing that there were people who cared about me.  That was the day I was finally happy again.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

More Ranting.

Hi there, my name is Liz, and something you might not know about me:

I'm not an idiot.

I just felt like telling everyone that because I feel like not enough people know this about me. So hello world here's a shocker, I'm not an idiot. I can tell when you're lying to me, I can tell that something is up and you're trying to hide it. Don't think for a second that I am this stupid, naive girl who has know idea what is going on. News flash: I do. I'm not an idiot. I can tell when you pretend not to see me. I know what a fake smile looks like because you give one to me all the time. (trust me, I am the master of fake smiles) But I only use mine when I don't like a person. You use your's when you tell me "Yeah, everything's alright." Ok hello buddy, need I remind you, I'm not an idiot. I know something is up so just tell me now before we create anymore useless drama and I get even more pissed off.

Ok, I know I seem easy going on the outside, but don't take that for granted. I am not going to let you lie to and manipulate me. Because when I seem all easy going, deep down inside my mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour trying to analize every single thing you tell me. So stop trying to feed me these lies because darling, I am not hungry anymore. I've had enough of your servings and I finally hope you see that I'm not an idiot.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Can We Save Lives?

Watch what you say. Your words are stronger than you think.

I didn't even know Johnny.
             I should have.
I should have reached out.
             Said something.
                       But now it's all too late.
                                   "and there's nothing worse than too late."

I just have 3 questions.
Why didn't I help?
What could I have done?

Something needs to change.
                 we do.
       We need to change.

We need to stop with these ridiculous expectations and just accept everyone in their own unique way. Stop with the judging. Start with the accepting.

Reach Out.
Save a life.

How To Write a Crappy Blog Post

1. Procrastinate all the way 'til sunday night at 10:30 to write it
2. Get some quick inspiration (and by that I mean check pinterest, instagram and twitter one last time)
3. Watch a few episodes of friends
4. Write crap down that comes to your mind
5. Submit it and hope that Nelson doesn't read it

Sunday, March 30, 2014

The stars are dead- just like your dreams

Does anyone else realize that stars are just big balls of burning gas in space? Yet we waste time dreaming and wishing upon these stars. If you want to get something done, get up off your butt and work for it. Yeah, they're beautiful and make amazing shapes. But other than that, what have they ever done for you that you can't do for yourself? 

I feel like stars just sit up there and look down at us wondering what the heck we're doing. I wonder if they feel bad that they can't do anything for us. I wonder if they even want to help us. I wonder if maybe they're just stuck up snobs who make fun of us for being lazy and putting our trust in them. 

But really, they're just big balls of gas. They don't have feelings and they don't care. They're not alive, and neither are your dreams if all you do is wishing upon a star. That's child's play. This is the real world. Time to grow up. Yep, I finally said it. Grow up. Don't forget about your dreams cause really, anything is possible. But don't expect some star to help you.

This is why I don't make friends

Don't become friends with me expecting me to be your pet.
Don't become friends with me expecting to control me.
Don't become friends with me expecting me to cater to your every need.
Don't become friends with me expecting me to spill all my secrets.
Don't become friends with me expecting me to hate everyone you hate.
To like everyone you like.
Don't become friends with me expecting me to spend every second of everyday with you.

You don't make friends by expecting. You make friends by accepting.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

I'm going to Space Camp- not Paris

Space Camp is where the real dreams come true. That's where I'm going when I grow up. Not Paris. Paris is the place we're expected to go. Everyone wants to go to Paris. Everyone wants to be in the norm. So I'm going to go to Space Camp. Space camp is way more fun. People don't judge you there. I could do whatever the heck I wanted to. In paris you're expected to act a certain way. Not Space Camp.

Space Camp is rad. 

Ok, so I don't literally mean that I'm going to Space Camp. (but don't get me wrong, it sounds way cool) Space Camp to me, is a state of mind. It's a state of mind that helps you see the world in a fun, adventurous way. When I grow up, I want to be able to see the world in a way that I can love it. Because right now, it's not lookin' so good. So if someone could help me get to Space Camp, that would be swell. 


Screw the Internet.

Screw the internet. Screw everything that is taking forever. Screw impatience. Screw the modern world where everything takes like two seconds to load and when it doesn't I get mad.

 I just feel like venting. Screw these computers cause they don't have auto correct and when I vent I type really fast. And mess up. Screw that stupid red squiggly line that tells you that you're spelling the word wrong. Screw the word squiggly. Why the hell is it spelled like that. 

Screw senior year. My classes are all pointless except for this one. Screw teachers who mark you absent even though you were only late so now you have an NC.

Screw the stupid writing prompt for our blogs this week. It's making me angry and stressing me out. an I have no idea what to write about. Yeah, that's right Nelson, I don't like this prompt. At all. Screw space camp.

Maybe it's cause I'm not creative enough. Screw creativity and how people think that creativity has to be a certain way.

Screw anger. Why do I get so angry? Screw emotions. They ruin everything.

Screw everyone and everything.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Letters To The Deceased.

Dear Grandpa,
             I miss you. I miss when you would tickle me. I miss you getting after me for sticking olives on my fingers and eating them. I miss when you would let me sit on your lap and let me "help" you play cards. I miss when you would hug me and playfully bite my ear just to hear me laugh. I miss the way you'd smile at me when I'd play with the toy cars. I miss playing in the garden and you teaching me what was ripe or not. I miss listening to your stories- no matter how long they were. I miss seeing your face light up when I'd make you birthday cards. I miss hearing your sweet voice say "I love you".
             I know that you're my guardian angel now and you're watching over me. I know I've made some dumb choices, but I hope that overall, you're proud of me. I'm sorry I didn't visit you in the hospital more. I make it up by visiting your grave. I wish I had had more time with you and to get to know you better. But even now, by writing this letter, I feel closer to you. I love you, "grampa".

Dear Grandma,
               I'm trying to become the strong, independent woman that you were. If I were as half as strong as you, I could rule the world. I wish I could speak my mind like you did and not be afraid. I feel bad that I was on vacation in Florida when you passed, but I know you didn't want us to cancel our trip. I feel like you were way more proud of my sister than you were of me because she could cook and crochet and do crafts unlike me. And I'm sorry if I didn't live up to your expectations, but I'm trying. Dad tells me that you would be very proud, but I feel like you were and always will be wanting more from me. I hope that changes soon. I love you, grandma. I will forever be your "little rascal". You're always in my heart and I'm always thinking of you and how amazing you were. See you again soon.

Dear (insert close friend here),
               I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't reach out to you like I should have. I'm sorry I asked about your cuts but never did anything to stop you from doing it. I'm sorry I judged you too quickly. I'm sorry I was scared to help you when you were in need. I'm sorry I couldn't stop you from doing what you did. I'm just sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I love you and think about you everyday. You were such a tough girl who went through crap that you didn't deserve. And I'm sorry that doing what you did was the only way to get out of your misery. I hope you're happy and at peace. Love you, girl. You will always have a special place in my heart and will always be an inspiration to me.

Sunday, March 9, 2014


Fear of what other people think of you. Yes, it is a real fear. And yes, this is my biggest fear. Ya know what, I don't like talking about my fears. I like talking about overcoming my fear. So yes. I'll admit it. I'm afraid of you. All of you. I'm afraid of what you think of me and my writing and my blog and just everything. I'm scared whenever I don't get comments on a post. I'm scared that you all randomly have this hate page of my blog and you just make fun of me. It's totally irrational, I know. That's why I'm working on overcoming it. I just need to remember that it doesn't matter what others think, only what I think. How the hell am I supposed to do that???

Monday, March 3, 2014

Admit it.

"When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed they are not it."

We've all googled ourselves at least once in our lives. It's hard to accept the fact that we're all human and we've all got a little bit of selfishness in ourselves. We love it when people comment on our posts, but find it hard or are slow to comment on other's. So just admit it. That's the first step. Don't deny it. The second step is accepting it. You can't help your selfishness if you aren't willing to accept it. I'm not trying to sound mean, or degrading, because selfishness is just a part of life. I'm not going to judge you because you are selfish. I'm going to judge you based on if you act on that selfishness. This is such a random, different post, but really. I kind of just want to give you all a challenge. Every time you do something selfish, do 3 nice things for someone else. It will brighten their day, and just might brighten yours too. It's impossible to be both selfish and happy.

"If you live your life as if everything is about you… you will be left with just that. Just you."

Sunday, March 2, 2014

I now have a love for Bricks.

Bricks make Houses.

                                                       Houses turn into Homes.

Homes make Families.

Families make Messes. Fights. Problems. Peace. Laughter. Fun.

Problems and fights make wisdom. Laughter and peace make happiness. 

These experiences make memories. Good and bad. 

Therefore, bricks make memories.    

How To

Hello, I'm here to teach you how to beat Senioritis. 

Step 1: You can't. Don't even try to beat it. There is no escape.

Good Luck! It's going to ruin your life.

Sunday, February 23, 2014


Yes, we all make mistakes and get hurt. That's just a part of life. We just have to realize that those mistakes and wounds can make us stronger and wiser. Start living your life now in the present, and forget about the past. What's done is done. 

There is no way to change the past, only your attitude about it.

Things Every "Different" Person Says

"That's so mainstream now."


"Is that organic?"

"What? I'm not a hipster."

"That's so vintage"

"Starbucks is life"

"Who uses insta filters? I use vintique."

"Oh you wouldn't know them, they're pretty new."

"Thanks, I wove this scarf myself."

"I ground my own beans for coffee."

"Plaid is rad"

"It's like a mix between like Weezer, Billy Joel, and a chainsaw."

*I'm not trying to make fun of hipsters. They're cool. I have even found myself saying some of this stuff, so don't get offended, ya weenies. 

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Take Me Back.

Take me back to simpler times.
Take me back to the freedom.
Take me back to the sun.
Take me back to the tan.
Take me back to 

Love Is.....


Love is Confusing. Love is fun.
Love comes at a Cost. Love is Free.
Love is Selfish. Love is Selfless.
Love is Physical. Love is Emotional.
Love is Complex. Love is Simple.
Love is Imperfect. Love is Perfect.
Love is a Lie. Love is the Truth.
Love is Knowing. Love is Trust.
Love is a Pencil. Love is an Eraser.
Love is the Winter. Love is the Summer.
Love is Hard. Love is Easy.
Love is Music. Love is Silence.
Love is Fake. Love is REAL.

Sunday, February 9, 2014


I've fallen in love with Plaid. 
Fishing with my late grandpa.
Camping with my dad.
Hiking with my mom.
Plaid played a huge part in my life. 
Weird, right? But it makes me happy and brings back better memories.
I miss the feeling of Plaid.



I miss the crayons.
I miss the polly pockets.
I miss Even Stevens, That's so Raven, Phil of the Future. 
I miss recess.
I miss Pluto being a planet.
I miss playing dress up.
I miss being told you can be anything.
I miss not worrying about grades.
I miss not caring about makeup, clothes, and relationships.
I miss not shaving my legs.
I miss playing princess.
I miss pretending.
I miss being outside 24/7 no matter if there was rain, sun, or snow.
I miss light-up shoes and heelys.
I miss the simplicity.


My crayons got replaces with pencils.
My polly pockets got replaced with a job.
My t.v. shows got replaced with homework.
Recess got replaced with attendance school.
Pluto got replaced with robots.
Dress up got replaced with Coco Chanel.
Being told you could be anything got replaced with discouragement.
Not worrying about grades got replaced with college applications.
Not caring about makeup, clothes, and relationships got replaced with peer pressure.
Not shaving got replaced with a razor.
Playing princess got replaced with waiting tables.
Pretending got replaced with logic.
Being outside got replaced with iPhones.
Heelys got replaced with heels.
No more simplicity.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Please prove you're not a robot.

I am 98% sure that I am not a robot. I am a human, I think. Humans care about things. which means I'm definitely human because I care about the tiniest things. Being human is also having a dream.

Once you stop dreaming, you stop living. You stop acting human. 

Always have a dream. Always try to care. That's what makes you human. Not your brain, or your thumbs, or your stinky little feet, but your dreams. Some people don't dream. They don't care. And that scares me. They scare me. They aren't considered human to me because they have nothing to live for and works towards and strive to obtain. They are robots.
Not politics, or gays, or wars, but the ones without a dream- The Robots.


What. If. I. can’t. prove. I’m. not. A. robot.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Appreciate the Music.

One of my biggest fears. Growing up and not appreciating the music.

First Impressions

Hi there. I'm not very good at writing, but I like trying new things.

This is pretty new to me.

First impressions are tough. After this introduction I want to know what you think of me. I want honesty. Brutal honesty. It's kind of scary and it may hurt my feelings but it would hurt my feelings even more if you lie to me. It means you don't actually care about what I am doing. And I like criticism. I need to learn how to take it better. So I might as well practice it on here. Behind a computer screen. Cause I'm a coward.

I love music. I hate feet. Loud chewing makes me feel agitated. Being in the sun calms me down. But I also love listening to the rain. I love and hate living in Utah. It's beautiful. But it's a bubble that smothers me. I speak before I think. It gets me in trouble. I daydream way too much. I zone out during important conversations. People think I don't care, when I actually do I just don't know how express it. I'm awkward but sometimes I also think I'm a people person. I love learning but I hate school. Sometimes I feel like I don't care about winning or being better, and other times I feel I am way too competitive. I like being alone and I hate being alone. I feel like I contradict myself way too much. But hey, I'm a teenager. What did you expect?

You have no idea how many times I've written and rewritten this introduction. And I'm finally using this introduction. How am I supposed to introduce someone who isn't even real? I am a real person, but like I said before I'm a coward and am afraid that people who actually know me outside this blog and pen name will judge me. Why do I care what others think? It's so stupid. But it's only human. And I'm a human. Or I try to be as human as the rest of you pretend you are. 

Well, now you know me. 

 What do you think?