peace and blessins'

2013 is almost over. Weird. Because I vividly remember the beginning of 2013, and geesh, it wasn't really 365 days ago, was it? Srsly. This year was what I would call a great big, 365-day-long growing pain. f'realz. Ouch. Many scars on this girl right here. But it was all worth it. Of course.

Heavenly Father knows what He's doing. 

This year I....

*started to blahg again and found out the internet still likes my insanity

*worked 3 different jobs. yes, three.  tres. mucho. that's a lot. but each one had its purpose in that whole growing thang.

*discovered BEN HOWARD

*made lots of new best frands, who I seriously can't believe I lived this long without! what the heck! well thanks 2013, for all these people. I lub them.

*hiked Timp finally (awesome, but ew. but awesome.)

*got my endowments 

*went to californiaaaaaaa

*took the dadgum GRE, POR FIN

*ate way too many tacos (wait that's not even possible)

*ran the Dirty Dash. next up: half marathon (??????!?!!?!?!?)

*learned how to longboard. bought a longboard. wondered if I really did know how to longboard. got some more scars from longboarding

*moved out of parents' house to Provo

*saw lots of family members and friends get married. aww yeah.

*went to lots of bang-a-rangin' concerts

I've been listening to this song on heavy rotation lately. The words are puhfect for how I feel right now:

And I've come to be untroubled in my seeking.
And I've come to see that nothing is for naught.
I've come to reach out blind
To reach forward and behind
For the more I seek the more I'm sought
Yeah, the more I seek the more I'm sought.

Hey 2014, I'm ready for you. Come at me.

tales of Christmas past

CHRITMAS CHRITMAS! I was talking to my amigo the other day and spelled the word wrong because I Was SO esccxciTED. Sooo much excite. Much wow. Very presents.

When my broski and I were younger, we would get really into it, like all the kids everywhere in the whole universe of time and space do.

Fiiirst of all, our Grandpa Alan would take us to Toys R Us (I dunno how to make the "R" go backwards, guys, deal with it) and we would have our reams of paper, I'm talking like SCROLLS, and we'd go to town. Isaac would go to the video game aisle and write down errythang he wanted. Which was basically the whole aisle. And I'd go to...well I'd go to the Barbie aisle (duh), the art supplies aisle, the As-Seen-on-TV aisle (because of the sand play-doh, remember?!), the puzzles aisle, the basically-everything-except-the-video-game-aisle-with-the-exception-of-Pokemon. I'd end up with about 150 things on my list. Wish I was exaggerating. So then I would choose my "favorites," and would narrow it down to 140 things. I mean.

ChritMaS.

Another great tradition our familia had whilst I was a youngun was doing "Secret Santa" for a family every year. One year will stand out in my mind forever. I bet you're expecting a sentimental story, but I don't think I can pull one off after leaving that gif up there...

I have plenty of sentimental Christmas stories. Don't worry. But they will be saved for another post on another person's blog.

So it was nighttime, riiight? We had to do our Christmas-present-leaving in the dark of night, because #stealth. Also it was foggy like it usually is in Oregon in the wintertime, so it was perffect for playing ninja. But we weren't there to play ninja! Focus, McFrenzy. We were leaving presents. So we had to drop them off on the people's porch perfectly (yeah alliteration!!!), AND ring the doorbell, AND run away..??!! Ha! Can you just imagine the excitement and terror simultaneously building up inside my child heart?! It was insane in the membrane, yo. Luckily I was not appointed as the doorbell-ringer that year. I usually had a panic attack when it was my turn (I wasn't a teenager yet and so I didn't know how to doorbell ditch yet because I didn't know how to waste my time on the weekends yet). So the task fell to Isaac. Isaac, who wore socks with his slip-on athletic sandals.

Behold:

Do you see where this is going? Straight to you-know-where (#notAustralia)

So my parents were in the getaway car (or as I like to call it, the minivan). Isaac and I finished putting everything on the porch, and I started to run as fast as my midget legs would carry me, not thinking of my poor brother and the duty he had to do. I remember looking back and kind of seeing his face and I think I was trying to be sympathetic but instead I did a little somethin-somethin like:

ChrITmas.

He shrugged, rang the gong, and busted a move. I mean like lit'rally, started running, but the poor dude didn't get very far because of those socks+athletic sandals. It all happened in slow-mo. I saw his foot catch, and slip right out of those sandals, and then his gangly white body just went flying. It soared. Majestic.

Well, as you can imagine, I started to really panic then because he was completely flat on their lawn, just groaning or something, and he had just rung their doorbell so they could've come out at any moment and seen a gangly white boy on their lawn, and it definitely wasn't sun-tanning weather sooo what explanation was there???? 

"Um hai I was just...taking a walk..on Christmas Eve...and your lawn looked comfy." HA. Well we were all frozen in time as we waited for Isaac to get up, which he did in the nick of time, and joined me behind our hiding place bush, and Christmas was saved.

Whenever I think of that story to myself I just....

And last but not least, there's the Nativity. Every year it gets crazier and more ridiculous, instead of reverent and relaxing. Here's a gem from last year. Please read it. The photos just make it more glorious.

GUYS. Have a Merry Christmas! I'll probably blog again before my next birfday. Oh gash that's in 2 weeks HElp.

p.s. how many gifs is too many? also how many of you almost-swore when you scrolled down and saw this?

single and ready to eat pringles

(at least Facebook let me change my cover photo...)

So Facebook wouldn't quit asking me to change my relationship status. I tried to say "In a Relationship With Mexican Food" but I guess I'm not facebook friends with Mexican Food and so it wouldn't count it. So then I changed it to "soltera" (which is Spanish for single and yeah, my FB is in Spanish, what of it). And Facebook said "This won't show up on your profile."

Well gee, thanks. I guess it's only cool to have your relationship status be on your profile if you're in one. What is this nonsense?!

For the record, if I was in a relationship, I wouldn't put it on Facebook, cuz that stuff is between me and my Mexican food. Ya feel me?

Anywayz. A lot of people offer to set me up. 9 times out of 10 they don't ask if I'm seeing anyone first. They just say, "Have I got a guy for you..." And then I pretend like I have to go use the bathroom or something. I'm like, having a bladder emergency. And I bolt. And then I don't even have to change the subject because I ran away from it! #mature

I don't know what it is about me that makes people want to hook me up to their best friends, but hey guys, I can do it. I think. I know you mean well and everything, but I just wanna find whoever it is by myself. I know what I want (mostly) and he lives in Great Britain and he's kind of preoccupied with his music and surfing right now but as soon as he reads this blog post I bet he'll catch the next red eye to Utah. Waaait for it.

When I went to BYU of the Idaho, I was constantly bombarded with the m-word, which is cool. I support it. I support marriage! Yes! I think it's awesome. But there was a lot of pressure on us chickens to find a rooster (what?) and those roosters weren't into asking girls out. I was too busy with studying to care, but sometimes I did. Sometimes I'd stop and be like "Hey! How come I'm not married yet and all of my friends are? Do I study too much?" To answer Past Kenzie's question, yes, you studied too much, but that's not the point.

The point is, you'll find it. You shouldn't settle. But you'll get there! I think in LDS culture we worry too much about finding the perfect person at the perfect time. And the thing is, it's gonna happen eventually. It really will. As long as you do your thing and do what Heavenly Father tells you to do, and show up where you're supposed to show up, things will work out. I've stopped worrying about it because a) I no longer live in Rexburg, the place where diamond store advertisements go to make war on single women and b) I decided worrying was pointless.

If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one that gets desperate sometimes. Today I was driving to Orem and I looked over at the guy next to me. He had the same car air freshener that I did. I actually thought, "Hey, we have the same air freshener. We have something in common...hey maybe I should try to make eye contact with him!"

Yeah. That happened.

wassup, wassup, my back hurts 'n stuff

?????????????

word to whoever made this: I dunno what kind of realtor you are but stop making creepy images on the internet. Sincerely, Me. 

Rachel. RB Money Bags. This one. Is. For You.

So it was a Friday night (I think. Actually maybe this was yesterday, which was Saturday. Two hours naps are NO joke you guys). Rachie was snappin' me some chats and kindly requested that I blog something funny for her. So I'm gonna do something I don't do very often. My best.

Once upon a time my computer got horchata spilled on it (not by me...I bet you thought I was drinking horchata in bed. False.). Now whenever it feels like it (which is a lot), the screen goes into crazy mode and chops everything up into little pieces, and starts scrolling forever. It's really entertaining and makes me laugh, while simultaneously making me want to dropkick my computer.

A brief list of other things I want to dropkick:

• Girl razors. Who invented these? They're worthless. I'd rather use a serrated knife. Wait. No. But I do use men's razors. Does anyone feel uncomfortable yet? PUHFECT. I'm doing my job.
• The pain in my back which will not cease and desist and I'm all like "BACK PAIN I WAS SAVING YOU FOR OLD AGE AND I'M SORRY BUT 23 IS NOT 'OLD AGE' PLEASE GO BACK IN YOUR NEANDERTHAL CAVE AND HIDE UNTIL I'M READY FOR YOU KBYE!!!"
• Slushy driving conditions. Okay, so you've all heard enough about the weather because of facebook because I'm sorry but nobody needs the Weather Channel or even the weather app on their phones as long as we have facebook. But okay, I love the snow and how it turns everything white and pretty and also how it makes everything quiet. But then I'm supposed to DRive IN It?! Ha. HaAH. You should've seen me the other day trying to stop at a stoplight. I was at least 100 feet away and already pumpin my breaks, pumpin 'em loud (Black Eyed Peas reference, EW). I came to the realization (in slow-mo) that I wasn't going to be able to stop for the red light. Nope. Nope nope nope. So I just half-closed my eyes and braced myself for what was about to come, and my car was sliding and sliding and I was like "just pretend you're in Cool Runnings and you're Jamaican" and then my car stopped, about 5 feet after the stop line but SRSLY. Who prayed for me that day? 
• The song "Santa Baby." This clip sums it up perfectly. PERF-ly. 
• The awkward look that a certain guy gave me while I was drivin' past him on the freeway the other day. Okay, so yeah, making eye contact with people while driving is #1, Unsafe, and #2, Uncomfortable. So why do we do it? Why do people drink Sunny D when orange juice exists? Anyway, I looked over at him because he'd been tailgating me and then sped over to the next lane, so I was going to give him a good Muppet face and he just looked over at me and WInked?! I was like "Ummmm nooooooo no you did NOt." And then he sped off. What is it with people  men and winking at me? Why am I cursed? *you can ask me about this in person but yeah, it's a REAL curse, circa 2010.
• The bottom of a chip bag. It's so depressing. You know how on webpages there's infinite scroll? Well someone should invent that, but for bags of chips. 
• Dis book. Dis book and I have a love/hate relationship. I actually did dropkick it once, because I got to a certain part and it made me gasp and then came the dropkick and then I was all "What in the world! Why do people climb Mt. Everest? Who thought this was a good plan?! The same person that invented those packs of gum with only 6 pieces of gum in them apparently!" Wait, no that can't be accurate because the 6-gum packs came way after people were climbing Everest....well ANYway I just...gosh! This book gives me nightmares but I can't stop reading it. Someone take it away from me. Kbye.

it's 2013, people. What a world. 

on a scale from fake pockets to nachos, how good is this idea?

So, remember that funk I was talking about? I'm trying to think of some solutions before I lose my dadgum mind. I'm probably gonna lose it. Because. I'm. An. Introvert. And I hold everything inside of me until it becomes Mt. St. Helens, post-May-1980. Ya feel me?

Here's a list of things I've tried out/I'm going to try out in order to pull myself together. Because I'm an unfinished jigsaw puzzle right now and I need to figure out where my missing pieces fit.

• marry a bus-driver who will drive us a bus to a foreign country, in which we convert said bus into a restaurant on wheelz. Then live inside the bus? Maybe that's too extreme. Well at least we'd never have to go out for dinner...
• go to a movie and then stay in the theater for the rest of my life. I probably wouldn't miss very much. Except for maybe other foods besides popcorn and giant pickles. Dang. Now I want a giant pickle.
• move to Alaska and stargaze for the rest of eternity (hey, it's the only place besides Scandinavia that's dark a lot...I'd move there, too, if it was closer). Also, I could try buffalo jerky! Yum! But also, there's mountain men in Alaska with facial hair, amiriiiight?
• invent something as cool as the french fry, make a jillion dollars, and move to Machu Picchu. Actually, I don't think I could live at that altitude for my whole life, so I'd just visit, and then move to Agribah. Yeah, that fictional place in Aladdin. 
• become a unicorn

So far, these are stellar ideas. Don't you think? Okay, here's some real life goals:

• run a race next summah (half-marathon, no joking around this time. but when I get to mile 12 I'll probably be thinking "Is this a joke?")
• chop my hair
• buy a new bike and ride it more than I drive my car (tricky, but super hippie, so I could probably maybe swing it...except for there's that black ice thing...hmmm)
• sleep more

#sendhelp

(an accurate depiction of how I feel. me= the girl. escalator =lyfe)

I identify with raccoons because I'm cute but I belong in the garbage

a depiction of moi before I drank some horchata. here I am after. horchata. important. 

It's been a Monday. I had to put a few songs on heavy rotation just to get through this day. This one in particular, man. Sidenote: why do all my favortiest bands come from Seattle and/or Great Britain? What is the phenomenon here? Expect a ruminating blog post on this in the near future.

In the past week I've been having the most bizarre dreams. I mean, normally I have weird ones, but these ones have made me wake up in the middle of the night, which never happens. You guys. I don't even get up to the use bathroom. Trent, if you're reading this, I bet you thought I just admitted to peeing the bed every night. But those days are over (because they never even began). What I mean to say is that my REM cycle is heavier than a circus elephant (???) and I don't wake up for anything. Not even earthquakes! #Mexicoreference However, this week, my dreams have been off-the-chain-insane, which is usually a sign that something is amiss in real life.

The problem is, I can't figure out what's missing. Usually when this happens, I just find something new to occupy my time. I set a new goal for mah-self. But there's something about this funk that I can't shake. HaLP. Sign up for a half-marathon (gulp)? Go back to Mexico? Go live in Mexico?

/end of nonsense transmission.

So I bought these corduroy pants a couple of weeks ago, and ever since I have noticed that upon wearing them, I instantly make new friends. Because of my pants. People go "Are those corduroys?" I say "Yeeaaah...." and then they hi-five me, or ask if they can touch my leg. Usually I just let them hi-five me. Except for that one exception I made for a boy, because even though I'd just met him, I felt comfortable enough to let him touch my leg. And thus a friendship was born.

It has taken me about three hours of on-and-off writing to complete this post. I had to stop after the first paragraph and take a drive, which just so happened to go past Beto's, and I said to myself, "Self, it's December, and you could literally live inside a Vampire Weekend song, and post it on the internet so people will think you're cool." Actually, none of those reasons mattered to me because horchata.

I'm pretty interested in sleeping and not waking up in the middle of the night because of weird nightmares and thinking a spider is crawling on my face when really it's just a piece of lint.

bye, here's a picture of a goat on a skateboard

he was a skater goat, he said see you later goat

okay I'm done. prOMise. 

all my bloggy readers: but is she really???

is it bad that I'm eating corn chips at 10:49 pm? wait don't answer that.

Well, here I am, blogging uh-gain even though I really shouldn't be allowed to. I don't mean after 10pm. I mean ever. But guess what, this is 'Merica! And I also feel a civic duty to provide you with your daily dose of awkwardness, as well as some good reaction gifs.

For example. I stumbled upon these gifs this afternoon and it made my life. MY LIFE. I laughed until I fell off of my bed. Yeah, that really happened. I don't lie up in here. This is the internet. Ain't nobody got time to lie on the internet. #jokes

I'm totally going to regret writing this later. I can just imagine waking up tomorrow in a haze and thinking "W-w-wait..what did I do last night? I ate some chips...there was that incident with the dumpster...oh wait...and...AW man! I blogged again!"

I can't decide which is funnier, the people tripping over a flat surface or the person barfing in the foreground. I mean.

I don't even know what I was planning on writing. I can't even think of anything awkward that happened to me today, except for the brief 20 minute period in which I was carrying two cans of tuna in my coat pockets. I wasn't shoplifting. I wasn't even at work. I was going to FHE! It's not like I normally find weird things in my pockets...

Usually it's my bed that houses strange objects. Back in college-times I'd be too lazy to get out of bed to eat (every day was breakfast in bed, holla), so I'd have dinner while doing homework, in bed, and then the next day I'd be studying again and feel something weird against my back, and be like "Oh man, there's a bowl in my bed!"

Don't worry mom, that was only freshman year. I grew out of it. Now I just find stuff in my pockets apparently. Last week I found an entire cup in my coat pocket. I think my water bottle was dirty or something.

Oh and speaking of tonight, after I took out the tuna, I found a label from my workplace in my coat pocket, and stuck it on my nose, then cheek, which was followed by a brief stint on my forehead. Still in public.

What a world.

I'm taking the GRE on Saturday. Ha. HAHAHA. No but really. Why am I doing this. Goodnight, homefries.

should I try to be extroverted or should I light myself on fire?

i don't know why this is here but i'm going to leave it.

So. Last night I went to Target for one thing (I can just hear all the women in the world laughing right now). It's always an exercise in self-control. As soon as I see the red signs in the clothing section, I give up hope. You'll be proud (?) to know that I went in for a folder-organizer-thingy (a.k.a a plastic accordion that sadly does not make music), and not only came out with that, but just one shirt, and a beanie. And two notebooks. But they had mEtallic STRIPES on them?!!! It's not a question. Just me making excuses. I go through journals fast, okay?

Whilst I was in Target, I had a #peopleofwalmart experience. This is rare because how can you have a People of Wal-Mart experience in Target?! Or any other store for that matter.... Well, the thing is, the people of Wal-Mart are actually just people, and they can shop wherever the heck they want to. Last night, two of them were in the delicates section at Target. BT-dubs, I am not talking about deli meat when I say "delicates."

*Sidenote. I once went to a Battle of the Sexes thing in my singles ward. They did a "what he said, what she said" poll, in which they asked boys questions only girls would know the answers to, and vice versa. Well, one of the questions they asked the boys was "Where would you find delicates in a store?" And some of them actually answered "At the deli." ?????????????

Okay, so back to People of Wal-Mart, or People of Earth Who Ride in Motorized Wheelchairs But Definitely Don't Need To But They Are Deliberately Doing So In Order to Patronize Others Who Are Just Using Their Poor Exposed Legs to Walk Around.

Yes. Two people, a couple, were riding in those motorized chairs, in the delicates section, but were not riding around very delicately, if you know what I am saying. I saw at least three people almost get run over/backed into by this couple, who were simultaneously running into every clothing rack they could and spouting "ARE THESE SOCKS ON SALE HEY HEY ARE THESE ON SALE!" Not a question. Just a declaration to whichever employee dared to come close. BANG. There goes another clothing rack. Or was that a small child....?

I tried to maneuver myself around them so I could go look at the tights, because the two of them were (quite awkwardly) blocking the walkway, and the man pushed "reverse" at the same time the woman pushed "drive" and yEAH it was a SITUATION. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and tried to summon my Eagle powers to get the heck out of there, but they had me trapped between their sweatpants-wearing legs. HEllllllpPPP.

I said a small prayer and tried to jump out from between them, and banged myself into a clothing rack (#irony), and the lady actually glared at me, but since I am trying to be more patient with persons in general, I summoned my most awkward tooth-smile and squeezed myself between the clothing rack and her motorized chair, while she continued to glare, and her husband/brother/fellow gang-member buzzed away matter-of-factly. Did you know you could buzz away matter-of-factly? I didn't, until I saw this guy do it.

Well then, in an effort to redeem myself for wanting to use a flamethrower on this particular couple (only in my head, not in real life, geez. I don't even own a flamethrower), I tried to compliment the girl who rang me out. She looked like she was having a bad day.

I complimented her on her headband. She said nothing. Didn't even look at me. This awkwardness caused the other people in line to look at me, though, and so I pretended I had been talking to myself instead. You know, pep-talks. Do you ever give yourself pep-talks? Out loud? In public?

Then I saw her hearing aid and realized she was deaf and so I took my bag and ran for the door. I probably looked a little something like this.

hashtag awkward.

Don't shop alone, kids. It's not safe. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anybody. Awkward people unIIIIIte. 

are you on your period? because you are ovary-acting

does anyone else say this in regular conversation? 

Okay, kids. Raise your hand if you found the leftover Halloween stash in your parents' coat closet and ate 5 pieces of chocolate without even breaking a sweat. 

.....so this is what it feels like to be an outcast. 

On Saturday I spent most of the day solo. This is not bad...actually it's really wise, at least for introverts like me, to get some solitude. In the summer, I would take bike rides for hours and just think. Now that it's colder, I take drives, but yesterday global warming was in full swing so I walked around campus after going to an art gallery. 

Oh art galleries. They refill me. Also used bookstores....I haven't been to one in way too long and I need that old book smell to revive my tired spirit.

I also really need a grand piano so I can just SHRED that ivory, if you know what I'm saying.

Anyway, so, walking on any campus gives me warm fuzzies. School is where I feel at home. I like libraries. And sitting at a desk and taking notes. I guess I'm a nerd. Not sorry.

The only problem with thinking time is that it often turns me into Emo Kenzie. Emo Kenzie is either super happy and content or super worried and crying. So that was me yesterday. It was a situation.

So I took myself to a place on campus that had a good view of Provo, and I looked at the temple, and said a long prayer, and let the words flow out of me, and tried to make sure faith was attached to them. 

And something told me it was going to be okay. So I'm going to believe that voice, instead of the one that tells me to worry or be afraid. 

ugh, writer's block. also why does nobody read this anymore.

is it because I stopped posting unicorn pictures? you GUYZ. It's not that hard to get your unicorn fix. There is google. Just saying. And this video game, which you should download. It's the only game on my device, SO.

I want to write things that are meaningful. I want to write things that make people go "huh" or "ohhh" or "sweet action daddy-crackin'!" You know?! Well, it's hard to want to write when nobody is reading. Or commenting. COMMENT. I beg you. I'm becoming one of those bloggers but, anyway, I digress. I shouldn't be writing this at all. This is a result of some classic Saturday night boredom.

Here is another result of aforementioned boredom:

See what I mean? Is there such a thing as drunk-blogging? You know, like drunk-dialing, only blogging, and not being drunk, just tired? Well, that's what this is. #justified

I actually have like 5 unfinished posts sitting in my drafts. Posts about nothing really, but I mean, this blog doesn't exactly have a theme. It's just me being me. I don't have a theme.

You know how instagram has those "10 random facts about me" things? Well, since this is a completely random post, constructed solely for my own entertainment on a Saturday night, I'm going to do that now. And I think someday it will go on my "about me" page. If I ever become famous enough to have one of those. #jokes

1. I'm weird and I like to park far away from the grocery store/mall/movie theater/whatever building I happen to be going to. I like to walk. Is that weird? Gimme the boonies! 
2. I still do Perdiddles even when I'm driving by myself. And I just realized how terribly awkward that sounds when I type it out. Halp. P.S. does everyone know what a Perdiddle is or do I really sound like a fool now? 
3. I always spend 30 minutes on Netflix surfing through dumb movies/shows, and sometimes even start one, just to find out that it's lame, and then I watch Office re-runs. Every dang time.
4. I like to eat the burnt ends of french fries. Srsly. Also I can't bring myself to eat the ends of bananas or carrots. ??? Don't ask. I don't have the answer.
5. I wish it was autumn/winter almost all the time because then I could wear beanies all the time! See that one I'm wearing in those pictures? I've been wearing it for 3 days. THREE DAYS. Of course I showered. Gosh. 
6. I like my ice cream to be frozen solid when I eat it. As in, chewable. Those people who drink milkshakes are weird.
7. I wake up almost every day with a Michael Jackson song in my head. However, this morning I woke up with "The Swagger Wagon" song in heavy rotation, sooo. Who knows. My mind thinks I am black. It's fine.
8. I spend an unreasonable amount of time looking at food blogs and reading cookbooks. Yes, I read cookbooks for fun. I LIKE FOOD. SUE ME.
9. I still jump on the bed to psych myself out for scary things, like first dates. And listen to certain songs very loudly. This one is a classic.
10. I like having painted nails, but my nail polish never stays looking good for very long, which annoys me, but never enough for me to paint over them, so my nails are perpetually gross looking. Does anybody care about this? Didn't think so.

OVER AND OUT, HOMIES.

just some words on a friday afternoon

image via pinterest

I have a lot to say, and yet I can't seem to find the words. I wish I could invent a whole lot of words for the things I feel. Then maybe life wouldn't be so confusing. If we could understand what we felt, and put words to them, and string them out across a page or a computer screen, they might be easier to decipher.

I'm learning a lot of hard lessons right now. But I'm also re-learning some of the basics I think everyone who's a "wise old adult" tells you you'll learn. It's true, yo. The only way to learn them is to experience them. And let me tell you, the experience hurts. Every time something uncomfortable happens to me, I feel broken open again. Exposed. And it makes me feel just like a skinned knee. 

But guess what...skinned knees heal. They leave lovely scars (and I have plenty of those. #klutzbomb), but they heal. And they teach you not to climb trees with weak branches. #metaphor? #dontknow #maybeillfigureitoutlater

I'm sure that I'll look back on this time, like I have with every trial in life, and be grateful for the person it forced me to become. I'm trying to focus all my prayers lately on that word--"becoming." Help me become who You want me to be. Help my heart to change. Help me to bend.

These quotes right here encompass all the things I can't say. Hopefully they will help whoever's reading this, too. Just don't give up. No matter what you're facing--don't give up. If Christ had given up, then we'd all be in a much worse state than we are. So go to Him first. Then, no matter how hard it is, keep going.

Just let go. Let go of how you thought your life should be, and embrace the life that is trying to work its way into your consciousness.

— Caroline Myss

To us, waiting is wasting. To God, waiting is working.

— Louie Giglio

The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could be.

— Charles DuBois

and now there is a boy outside my window talking about his girlfriend's lame texting habits ("she didn't text me back for 7 hours!!!!") and I'm all like "yo, sleeping up in here."

Let the records show that I did not ask her to pose like this. 

SO. It's been awhile. #lyfe

I'm currently in my bed with a hot pad on (duh, because I'm an old lady and I never go to sleep without it). And a scarf. And a hoodie. Because the heat doesn't come on in my room or something. The irony is that there is a firepit outside my window for young single adults to gather around, and eventually cuddle, and eventually DTR and then get engaged. All while I shiver in my room, a mere 10 feet away, and sneeze myself to sleep. Ah, Provo.

I'm currently re-reading Harry Potter. It makes me feel 12. But then again, so does car-dancing, jumping on the bed, and eating chocolate for breakfast (all things which I regularly engage in, thank you very much).

Today a guy came into work and I rang him out, gave him his receipt, bla-blah, and then he like, looked into my soul and said "I need you to promise me that you'll have a good day." I said "Well it's already 6:30 so can I just get a rollover plan for tomorrow?" JK. I said "Um, sure!" ha. And smiled. Then he looked at me sternly and said "No really...promise me. Promise me you will." I said okay kind of nervously, because there were other people watching and I didn't want them to think we were, well, I don't know, he just had this look, okay?!

my thought process: "Guyz, I swear I did not know this human 50 seconds ago but now he is making me pinky-swear and that is reserved for BFFs so it feels like a violation."
what I really said: "Ahh, okay...yep, I promise!"
as he walked away: "Well, you promised now. So I'm going to check on it later. Okay? Okay McKenzie?" (dang that stupid nametag!)
me: Heheh...heh...(trailing laughter)
him: I'll see you later.

I'll mark my calendar for that day. And I shall mark it "RUN AWAY ON THIS DAY AND AT THIS TIME. TO MEXICO."

Oh yeah, and shoutout to Snapchat for providing me with a really awkward amount of terrible selfies on my camera roll. How will I ever explain this to my posterity? 

"Yeah so this one is of me with three chins and the caption says "I just ate lasagna." And I actually sent it to someone and they are still friends with me." Oh I know, I could make a book of parables about it! That'll learn them. 

Parable 1: Choose good friends who will still speak to you even after you send them Fat Tuesday pictures (#notamardigrasreference).

????????????????????

(this was before I added special effects. a.k.a. fake crayon art)

I request the highest of fives for completing this post while on cold medicine. Because if you know me well, you know how I react to any type of medication.

Mentos + diet coke.
Baking soda + vinegar.
McKenzie + drugz.

All da same reaction. Imploding. Exploding. Overall insanity.

here's a brief trip down memory lane (just me, talking to myself):
"hahaha remember when you shaved your legs 3x in one day because you were taking Sudafed?"

"omg or what about when the hospital gave you the stuff that's 10x stronger than morphine for 3 days and you had no control of your bladder whatsoever and everybody that visited you looked like a character from the Willy Wonka movie? remember when?"

"OR there was that precious time you took two Aleve and it knocked you out flat in the back of the car and so your parents went to a Christmas party while you slept in the backseat, and if anybody had walked by at the time they would've called the police because it looked like you'd been kidnapped and drugged (half of that is true). ??"

Ah, memories.

Don't do drugz. Over and out.

let's go back in time for a moment, shall we?

Will somebody please explain to me why we ever thought puka shell necklaces were so cool? Because I, for the life of me, cannot fathom why it was so awesome to own one. And yeah, just like any 13-year-old girl in the early 2000's, I felt the need to wear mine right along with my sparkly butterfly hair clips (the horror). And the boy I liked might've owned a puka shell necklace. One of those big chunky ones. Cuz, you know, those were more manly. Observe (and yes, I lit'rally googled "puka shell necklaces for men" and this came up. so, don't doubt my knowledge. I mean google's knowledge.):

look at him and his snazzy aviators and his carefully-placed bicep. he knows what's up because he has a puka shell necklace on. it makes me want to puka in the toileta.

But also, these.

you will never believe the name of the (current) article where this picture was from. "First Date Looks: 10 Clothes And Accessories For ’90s Grunge Inspired Style." No. Just no.

Now let's get real. Pokemon. Everybody loved Pokemon  right? We had friends in our ward who went to Japan sometimes (yeah, they just went to Japan, ok? Like it's an easy road trip or something. whatevs) and they would bring back special edition Japanese. Holographic. Pokemon. Cards. Hol-o-graph-ic. Code for "you are now the coolest person in the 4th grade."

Naturally, my brother and I ruled the neighborhood during those times. Ah, to be a pubescent Pokemon card-dealer again! That's how I built my street cred you know.

p.s. I don't actually have street cred. let's just clear that up right now in case I get any requests from thugs to join their gang. the answer is no.

here's a picture of me, circa 1995, just because?? oh I know how it applies--

I know how to do bicep-placement too. And I don't need a puka shell necklace to do it. 

#RIPBarney

While we're on the subject of television, let's talk about Nickelodeon. I mean, I was terrified of the dark (and vampires, creepy dolls, soul-sucking masks, and demon-possessed bloodhounds) but I still watched that dang show, "Are You Afraid of the Dark?"  And the scariest episode of all time gave me legit nightmares. Apparently it was number 16 on this list, but f'realz, look at that psycho vampire.  I was mostly afraid because we had one of those root cellars and I really thought a blood-sucking fiend would jump out and latch onto my neck meat every time I reached around the wall to turn on the light. 

Can't blame a young girl for having an active imagination, ok?

This coming from the same girl who, at age 5, was doodling "beer popsicles" on the program in church (this is not a lie, I don't like about anything, especially beer popsicles).

Imagination is powaaaah! But sometimes it keeps you up at night thinking that an ape-cray old lady with a tattoo necklace will grab your feet if you dangle them over the bed. I mean, don't tell me this doesn't make you wanna pee your pants:

Don't even TELL me. 

I debated whether or not I should talk about "them" but my 90's spirit animal said "do it" and so I'm doing it. SPICE GIRLS. They are ape-crazy, right? But we love them somehow?

let's take a moment of silence for all the people who hung this poster in their rooms. or who still have it hanging in their rooms...oh gosh. just pray. pray really hard. 

Shout out to my girl Amy, who channeled Baby Spice for many moons and dressed up as her for Halloween and had a Spice Girls folder, which I vividly remember coveting. So.

Oh yeah, speaking of the Spice Girls, have you seen this? Somebody do this with me in real life. Then we can become best friends.

Now let's talk about Disney-related things. Specifically Pocahontas-Disney-related things. I was/am/was obsessed.  Yes, my 5th birthday party was all Pocahontas-themed. My mom worked at the Disney store so we had the hook-upz. I have an entire photo album dedicated to this party, ok? If we're BFFs then you can see it. All others must fill out an application. 

I also owned a really creepy piggy bank with John Smith and Pocahontas cuddling. That was the piggy bank. Just them cuddling. And John having a coin slot in his back, which just made it look like he was having spinal surgery and in no way would he be in shape to be cuddling at that moment! You know? Okay well...Disney store: work on your coin slot placement. Thanks. There are kids out there with morbid imaginations. 

Oh yeah. Let's not forget my broski's Chief Powhatan boxers. Ah, don't you love saying that? It's like those words were all meant to be together. Chief Powhatan boxers. Now, story-time. Yet again. If you make it through this post I will give you money. Hard cash. 

a photograph of my brother and me, probably around the time the following story took place.

check dem grillz (on the car, gosh). 

One fateful day, he was climbing the tree in the front yard wearing those Chief Powhatan boxers (and nothing else on the bottom) and ripped a giant hole in them! R.I.P. Chief Powhatan boxers. You were the coolest thing to ever grace Isaac's underwear drawer.

Realness: it felt weird to type that last sentence. Moving on.

Now I'm gonna take you through time with these sentimental images. For those of you who grew up in this decade, get your kleenex out, okay? Trust me.

1,000,000 points to Gryffindor if you know what movie this is. 

life lessons from Arthur (a show I still watch, and I'm not even sorry about it)

I'm actually crying right now looking at this. 

 yes I did once go to a secret powderpuff girls meeting in a trailer. in a TRAILER. we weren't cooking meth, though. we were discussing our powderpuff powers. again, not a lie. what a childhood!

ain't no field trip like a "let's travel through a fellow student's intestines!" field trip

Oh, this game. I always died via snake bike and I could never ever cross that dang Platte River. It's a video game, how hard can it be to get a 2-D character through a pixelated pond? Super hard.

what kind of person invents this for children?! like, who are you and how do you still have your eyebrows? I'm pretty sure I would've shaved them off by now, if I knew who you were and where you lived.

My brother was known for stealing the neighbor's Ferbies and pushing them down the driveway, just to hear them say "oouuch, thaat huuurt" in their creepy voices. Ah man, he thought it was so chilarious. The neighbors didn't.

how many times do I have to say that I don't wanna hear 12-year olds singing "I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch." Like, it's done. Be done. My ears are lit'rally bleeding. Oh and don't worry. There are 24 of these. TWENTY FOUR. That means there are more of these than there are years of my life. What does this say about me?

Mm, don't answer that.

if you didn't watch this show, who are you?!?

God bless the 90's. And Isaac's ensemble. And my face, which I still make, to this day. And that backpack, which I am pretty sure had Barney on it. And that afghan. And that wallpaper. Oh, that wallpaper.