I can still hear that Celine Dion song ringing in my ears....

just so you know what everyone looked like at the time this story took place #tights

Did anyone else call Celine Dion "Celion Dion"? (Suh-LEE-Ahn) It sounds so much better to me. I used to call her that still call her that. It's also fun to use as a swear sometimes.

*stub your toe* "CELION DION!" Nobody will ever know what you're talking about. And that's the beauty of it!

Ok, looking at the name "Celion Dion" this many times in a row is tripping up my vision. I'm not here to talk about her (even though I have successfully done so for the past few sentences, and I honestly never thought I'd be able to accomplish that in my lifetime). I'm here to talk about The Incident At the Stake Dance When I Was 14. No, it does not have to do with my period. An alternate title for it could have been:

**~~I'M SORRY I CANNOT HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY PRIDE AND DIGNITY BEING ANNIHILATED WITH YOUR DUMB TEENAGE BOY LASER BEAM EYES~~**

Have you ever had a zit (everyone better nod your head) that was in a very-difficult-to-reach spot, like in the middle of your back for example? And have you been blessed/cursed with very short limbs, so as to disable you from reaching said zit? Well then it bothers you a whole lot and you think about investing in one of those freakishly long bobby pins that isn't good for anything except popping hard to reach zits and picking car locks (the second one is easier to do with a knitting needle, I mean, if you want a real-life experience on picking locks)..? But then you don't, because wasting money on something you'd only use for such a short time is really illogical, is it not (#weddingdresses)? I don't know. The point is (pun intended), this experience I'm about to share is like one of those zits.

I tried to forget about it, and push it to the very back of my mind, into the cave portion, where Gollum might live if he lived inside of someone's hippocampus (and there we have the creepy existential thought of this blog post, you're welcome). Alas, I could not. And so I divulge it with you now, in the hopes that it will then exit my head forever (again, pun intended. I like my puns to be of the intended variety, yo).

Upon walking into this stake dance in the year 2004, the chaperones had set up two baskets, one for girls' names, and one for boys'. Ha. AHAAA yeah haha you think I'm that dumb I'm not gonna put my name into either one of those baskets, no way, no way. The only way my name is going into that basket is if there's a ball pit made of M&Ms through these doors. 

I didn't say that. I said "No. Thanks." And walked into the dance, feeling pretty good about myself for averting a major crisis. The DJ played Cotton Eyed Joe, we all oogled each other uncomfortably across the gym floor, the girls pretended to be thirsty, the guys quizzed the girls for a painful 3 minutes on their favorite color of toothbrush (I wish I was joking), etc, etc. All pretty normal stake dance biznat. Then someone, probably a descendant of Stalin, took the mic and announced that they would be *drumroll plz* pulling boys and girls names out of the baskets, respectively, and pairing us up for a dance.

My short-lived elation got on the Tower of Terror and plummeted into the basement of Regret & Anger as my friend turned me to me and said, "Hey I saw you didn't put your name in the basket so I did it for you cuz I am definitely your best and greatest friend rn."

Me, in that moment:

Suddenly the room was hotter than Sauron's eyelash curler. I HAD 2 GET OUTTA TEHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

E

E

EEEEEEEE

I turned to my other only friend and said, "I'm glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam."

Jk, I said "Son of a b, get me out of here, what do I do, HALP" and she said "here, trade names with me so I can get out of this," and at the time I had no rational thinking going on so I said "Okay yeah this sounds like a good solution, just trade names with me so I still have to go through with this and you don't hahaha yes I am the best at problem-solving." #wishIwasinJamaicarightnow

I took her name and proceeded to figure out who the person was that had this name, a name which has since been burned into my memory. I wandered over to the refreshment table, which I recall having an awful lot of fruit on it. I'm sorry, I know what you chaperones were trying to do for us, but I think you just wasted a lot of fruit and I know for a fact the boys were sneaking Nutter Butters and Animal Crackers into the dance in their crowded pockets (Isaac, I'm mostly talking to you). 

My spellchecker keeps trying to correct the word "chaperone." What do you wantME TO dO?! Change it to "chaperonie?" No. That didn't work. "Chaperoni." Forgeti this.

I walked up to one of the c-rones (that didn't work either, just for those keeping score) and said "Hey, which one of these awkward males is ______?" The guy smiled jovially and said "Ohhhhhh yess, that is a very fine young man. Very fine young man. Just moved here from Idaho." He then proceeded to POINT at the boy, as if the boy couldn't see two strangers staring at him from a few feet away and pointing. Why do people ever try to point subtly? Like, it does not work, unless you happen to be under an Invisibility Cloak. So I went up to the boy to introduce myself. This was a big deal for me because

a) he was surrounded by his other guy friends

b) I was slightly terrified of boys at this point in my pubescent timeline

c) I could've really used some strawberry fro-yo at this point in the story

d) wait I could use some now, hold plz

e)very t)ime s)he t)ells s)tories s)he g)ets s)idetracked w)ith f)ood h)ONESTLY

I blinked nervously. No tears at all. My fail-safes, my tear ducts, my beautiful wonderful Niagra Fall Holes in my eyeballs, FAILED ME. My heart started to work overtime, which I'm sure was very cute.

*Boy*: "Is this chick high on something? It's definitely not laundry detergent..." *examines my eyes more thoroughly*, making the whole situation worse.

And yes, I imagine he was the type of guy to call girls "chicks," and he probably wore cargo shorts on regular days and if he ever had a girlfriend I bet he yelled at her in parking lots. 

I stumbled and said "Uhh....I have your name...." I should have added "I pulled it from the Goblet of Fire." It's really a shame when you think of a good line to say like 15 years after the fact. Such a waste.

Suddenly Celion Dion started to play... "....it's all coming back...." *drum crash* *glass shatters* *speakers blow out* *breaks sound barrier* IT'S ALL COMING BACK TO ME NOWWWWWW!"

Now you know why I really can't forget this moment. Because that song, of all the songs, was playing as it happened. 

He acknowledged my presence after I told him I was his dance partner, basically, and THeN I said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jared Gibby." Yes. YES. I read his name to him as if it were my own.

He and his friends lost their composure, as I'm sure my eyeballs were practically falling out at this point and I definitely looked like some kind of addict, and as I realized what I had done, Celine was belting something about the nighttime and whispering and I was like "You're goshdang right, I am whispering swears softly under my breath right now GETMEOUTOFHERE."

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.....ly afraid of stake dances and never went to another one. 

I guess another title for this story could be "In Which McKenzie Explains Her Fear of Baskets and Basket-Related Things." 

I left my OJ on the train so you could say my crying-drought is over now

Guys. GUYs. I'm moving. I have decided to let myself feel all the emotions instead of pushing them away. Which means I'm a mess. Also shouldn't be staring at this screen & typing because I've got a volcano for a head right now. Migraines are like the Guy Fieris of bodily functions. WAT DID I JUST SAY.

Well, it made sense, didn't it. (?)

Visual aid

I observed lots of things whilst I was on the train this weekend (but apparently not my orange juice, being left behind...waahhh)

• "That lady looks like she poached Gandalf and now she's wearing him." Well.

• A hispanic kid got locked in the bathroom for like 10 hours and was banging on the door 5EVER. When his parents finally came to let him out they were laughing hysterically. ??????????? Or should I say ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
• I got a great amount of satisfaction from watching people in traffic/getting pulled over from the train window. Why don't we all take the train..???
• I've just realized that I only use one question mark or a thousand, there is no in between for me. 

So, back to the real point of this post. I'm moving (again). Seems like it wasn't that long ago that I moved to this strange city, and I was really nervous, mostly because I didn't have any "people." I was pretty lonely for a little while. But then certain people barged into my life without knocking, which was the best possible thing they could have done for me. They opened my eyes to all different kinds of love--giving you a ride when your car breaks down kind of love. Listening to you ramble on about your limited knowledge of politics love. Hanging out with you while you do laundry and eat pie kind of love. Going on bike rides with you in the middle of the night kind of love. Coming over to your apartment just to give you a hug when you're sad kind of love. I used to think that my time here was depressing/sad, but that is simply not true. I got slapped across the face with so much love it left me dizzy and wanting more.

You know, writing big long thank-you posts is not really my steezy, but I kind of want to do just that. To let everyone know I have the greatest people in my life who constantly amaze me and make me want to be better and lift me up. I went through the hardest times of my life while I was living here in Provo, but I gained so much. Why doesn't everyone just come over in the next month or so and I can hug you all for like 5 minutes straight? That sounds like a good plan to me. 

This move is temporary (I think) but it still feels...something. Feels like I'm leaving a piece of my heart here. 

Oh McKenzie, you drama queen (see image at the very top for reference).

if I had a clubhouse the sign on the front would say "no whiners allowed plz! (or people who dislike peanut butter)"

wow is my hair red???? redwood tree brown????? chocolate popcorn candy tower color?????? who knows????

I got called "Waldo" six times that day. SIX. Thanks for nothing, H&M.

Alright, alright. If you have an aversion to peanut butter because of, like, a life-threatening allergy, you may still come aboard this ship. Er...house. House in a tree. Someday I'm going to have a treehouse again, and it won't be rotting/dangerous/made in the same years my father was in high school. Bless you, old walnut tree, for holding that tree house for so dang long.

Recently, I have been gravitating more towards things/people that inspire, uplift, and make me feel better about myself while at the same time making me want to become more. In other words, my spirit digs all those things mentioned in the 13th Article of Faith. Isn't that something? Huh. Well, anyway (my mom loves when I say "anyway"), besides this being a not-really-coincidental thing that I am doing (because of this), it's also making me wonder...

Why do we ever waste time on anything less? How does the adversary distract us like that, when we know better. We all know better. I scratch my head at this every day, at myself, for falling for that even for a second. The trap that says "You aren't really worth as much as you think you are, so how about you just waste your time on this frivolous activity?" Such frivolous activities include but are not limited to:

• netflix marathons (seriously make me unable to sleep+make my stupid back pain worse+make me feel lame, and I know, we all do it, but it's seriously horrible, the end)
• eating anything gross
• spending too much time on the internetz for no reason
• not spending time reading all my books
• not spending time outside

These all have a common thread: idleness. In my early morning seminary class wayyyy back in the prehistoric ages, a boy once commented saying "An idle mind is the devil's playground." Gosh, it's true. UGHHH Lucifer. Stop playing on my playground. Get out of here. You don't even like swings.

*crushes his head with my heel*

*wait he doesn't have a head*

*crushes a picture of E.L. James instead*

*it's kind of the same*

*whoa are u being passive aggressive, McKenzie..?*

In honor of this inspiration-fest, I am going to leave some linky-dinks here of things that have inspired me lately to be a better person. Maybe they will help you too. 

Now, go for a walk today, and leave your phone at home. Unless you're in a bad neighborhood, like me. Then take your phone. Ok, leaving your phone anywhere is sort of a bad idea NVM.

• this girl has hodgkin's lymphoma and decided to make shaving her head into...not such a bad thing
• this post written a while ago by the lovely brooke, who always inspires. I still think about this post. It was great. 
• this blog, and also this human, whom I have since hung out with a couple of times and she is just as inspiring in real life. I love it when that happens!
• this talk. very much worth everyone's time. 

let's make tears come out their eyes (censored edition)

*cue the Mmm Whatcha Say song*

Yeah I'm never gonna get over that one.

**I really was not going to post this but then Caitlyn, my roommate, read it and she was laughing real hard and said it was her favorite ever so I decided to just heavily censor it for the sake of those who may read it and you're welcome, Happy President's Day, etc.**

Written on Feb 14th at 11pm-ish
I have been sitting here in my bed try'na cry for like 15 minutes. I got a little choked up when I read a certain passage in a favorite book, but no tears came.

So then I tried listening to Ben Howard, which usually does the trick.

Nothing.

I know that this post is going to be one of those that never gets published, not ever, because like ten of my relatives will text me saying "YO IS EVERYTHING OK WIDCHU..??? LET US SEND AN AMBULANCE TO YOUR PLACE OF DWELLING REMOVE ALL RAZORS FROM THE PREMISES."

Naaaahhh. No publish for you, little blog post. You're going to be in draft limbo for the rest of your life. But don't worry, it's not like Catholic limbo. They feed you refreshments here and make sure you get a foot rub every once in a while. I don't know who "they" are, but hey, it's my blog, and goshdangit there WILL be refreshments and foot rubs.

I feel nauseated because I ate gelato. It was supposed to be my Valentine's day treat for myself.
Strike 1: I got it at Wal-Mart
Strike 2: It's gelato
Strike 3: I have no gallbladder
Strike 4: Which brings us back to strike 2

And then I tried to watch this ridiculous Netflix show (Netflix show implies that it was never on TV, but I think it was, who even knows, do people still watch TV...????), which gave me nightmarish ideas about my neighborhood, particularly because my neighborhood is not the best, and I have to walk quite a distance to my car every day, which makes me sweat nervously every day. That's a lot of sweating. A LOT OF PERSPIRATION.

Why do I feel the need to capitalize things sometimes, when I'm writing, like I have to yell at whoever I'm writing to? WHOM*ever. Huh. See, maybe I'm just correcting myself. And yelling at myself.

Anyway back to this crying biznat. Why am I trying to cry? Well, I haven't had a good cry in about a week or so. Maybe more. It's probably this new birth control, which used to make me feel like my heart was leaping out of my chest every chance it got only to get stomped on by anyone and everything. Red light? Crying. Picture of a kitten? Inconsolable. Best friend doesn't text me for a month? Forget about it. *Rex from Napoleon Dynamite voice* FUHGET ABOUT IT But now it's pulling a 180 and I am an emotionless dumpster.

Grievances that I want to cry about but cannot bc apparently I'm emotionally constpiated rN:

1. Arrow Season 3 isn't on Netflix and Hulu Plus only shows 5 eps at a time so I'm like 10 episodes behind, so what is the point of you Hulu Plus? Huh? WAT IS THE POINT OF YOU
2. the apartment smells like brownies cuz it's Valentine's Day but those brownies ain't for me, ya dig?
3. my back has needed to be popped ever since I tried to pop it like 2 months ago
4. *insert anonymous person's name here*
5. YEAH *person*you make me wanna punch holes in walls like 80% of the time, let's just go back to being nothing friends who never knew the other person existed
6. UGH MY EMOTIONZ
7. I wonder when somebody else will ever read this. It feels like one of those cool undersea animals that lives so deep under the ocean that nobody has ever laid eyes on it but YOU K N O W those exist. u knoe
8. Why am I spelling everything like I never got a degree in English?????? That def makes me wanna cry.
9. Every day I want to quit my life more and move somewhere not Utah.
10. There's a freakin salt shaker by my bed..oh my gosh who AM I
11. I don't like the word "freakin" but sometimes that's all there is to say
12. AGAIN with the comments that make me sound like I'm not/never was an English major
13. I want to unfriend some of my friends in real life
14. But then I won't have friends...
15. And I'll feel guilty. Because I have two x chromosomes or whatever.
16. That stupid gelato, I'll get you for this Wal-Mart!
17. My feet are uncommonly cold for someone who is always wearing tons of layers. Except right now because I'm wearing shorts. But it's February. So what if the weather is bipolar. Sowhatwhocares.
18. Let's make that one word, homies. Let's stop putting spaces between things. Like words and people and people and animals. I sound insane. 
19. At 11:11 pm I am going to stop writing this. Start the countdown.
20. Oh geez that means I have like 3 minutes left I don't think I can stay in this position for much longer seriously my back is in the shape of a seal right now...? You know what I mean, like when a seal arches its back?
21. DOES ANYONE REMEMBER THAT MOVIE CALLED ARCHIE OR ARROW OR ARCH-HEAD OR ARCHIBALD OR ARNIE?? It was from the 90's and it was about a seal.
22. Oh it was called Andre. Not anything like what I just said.
23. Only 60 seconds left....I just had a flashback to the time in math class in 13th grade when we were having opening prayer and Liz left her Photobooth open and took a pic of us praying and I was very serious in the picture and she was being so irreverent and I wish I had that picture still because if I did it would be on my wall somewhere 
24. MARK
25. MY
26. WORDS
27. I regret saying "freakin" earlier. 

So much for this being censored.

mmm watcha say (in which McKenzie shares something that makes her cry-laugh)

I just found these on my phone from when I had snapchat 

oh GOsh who ever let me download that thing

I know I look terrible. I had legitimately been crying beforehand. SO THERE.

Does everybody know about the new internet trend of playing the "Mmm Watcha Say" song over any sad scene in every TV show/movie/etc?? P.S. I know that's not the real name of the song because I listened to that album heavily in my 18th year. But let's pretend for the sake of the internetz that it is.

Anyway, this trend...it's the greatest thing and I can't stop craughing about it. Here ya go. My humor has probably gone to pot and that's why I find it funny. EVERY GOSHDANGTImE. If you laugh at it too, then we have the same sense of humor, congratz.

*not a real bog post*
*when is it ever a real blog post though*
*why*am*I*putting*asterisks*around*everything*?*

Each of these takes less than a minute to watch and I swear they're all worth it.

• Number One (Pitch Perfect)
• Number Two (Parks & Rec)
• Number Three (Captain America 2)
• Number Four (Big Hero 6)

WHY IS IT SO FUNNY I CAN~~**T

Goodnight. Gotta go make some Sarcastic Valentines. 

My new favorite gif to send everybody/anybody

"When you wake up and realize you set your alarm for PM not AM."

"When you wave at someone in public and they don't see you."

"When the day of the week is Monday."

Gold.

questions and no answers

Uterus: Psssst...hey...you're not pregnant.
Uterus: Hey guess what ur still not pregnant, you better get on that.
Uterus: I made an egg for you aren't I nice, now hurry up and do something about it
Uterus: STILLNOTPREGNANT
Uterus: Get pregnant or else.
Uterus: Ok I guess you picked "or else"
*kills you slowly for 7 days*

I still don't know anything about grad school. By that I mean I don't know if I've gotten into any of the places I applied. Was that terrible grammar? It was, wasn't it.

I still don't know precisely who I am going to turn out to be. Sometimes I'll have an inkling, a small glimpse of maybe what Heavenly Father sees in me, but admittedly, I'll get too afraid and look away. I'll think "Oh man, could life really be that awesome? Could I make it so? Could I beeeee that person?" And Satan interjects with something called fear and I rip my toes out of the water as quickly as I dipped them in. Dippin' and rippin'. That's gonna be the tag on my business card.

I still don't know if winter is done being winter, and we're getting an early spring. It's nice, driving with the windows down again. Driving up the canyon whenever I get a chance and breathing in that mountain smell which really butters my biscuit. BUTTERS IT. At the same time, I'm not looking forward to a dry summer. Dry summer=fire. Maybe this summer there will be more than one kind of fire. You know? I can dig those kinds.

(doesanybodyknowwhati'mtalkingaboutstill)

I don't know why the moon looks sort of sad when it's going down
I don't know why I'm always cold (probably hormonies)
I don't know why watching videos of my younger siblings when they were babies makes me lose it
I don't know why I keep having dreams about things happening and then they happen
I don't know what any of that means, or if it should mean anything
I don't know why J.K. Rowling decided to kill off one twin and not the other one too, because that was cruel
I don't know how I could be in a room with hundreds of other people at a concert and feel like I was the only one there
I don't know why I'm perpetually writing poetry in my head

I can't know all the answers, at least not now. I'm not worried about knowing everything all at once. I'm trying to be grateful for having questions at all, and that makes them seem less stressful and painful. They become a part of me, and then soon enough, maybe I'll live my way into the answers.

"stay swoll, ponyboy"-abraham lincoln

I was at Gold's Gym Vasa (W H A T E V E R) and I had to do this awful free consultation.

Not all the best things in life are free.

The guy who was consulting me was very ripped. His upper half was basically a perfect triangle. Which did nothing except make me think of

The only triangles I really care about. 

But you know how some people are so buff that their upper halves actually turn into TRIAngLES? It's a thing! Mostly found in swimmers because #shoulders. You're always sure to find out something you never needed/wanted to know on this blog.

He asked me to warm up by "biking a little." I got on the stationary bikes (the kind you actually sit down on at a 90 degree angle, which in my opinion doesn't do anything). One time I saw someone using a stationary bike at the AF Fitness Center. She was eating a fudgesicle while pedaling.

sidenote: I hate the word Fudgesicle

So, point is, I wasn't exactly "warming up" from this bicycle exercise, but apparently it made my face looked flushed enough that he came over and told me to "cool down." 

Me, 5 seconds later:....uhh...ok. Done. Cooled off.

Him: *eyebrow movement*

Me: Okay, I could use some...water?

Then he fist-bumped me. This would be the first of 50 times I received a fist bump from this guy. FIFTY SHADES OF FIST BUMPING NEVERMIND FORGET I SAID THAT WISH I HADN'T SAID THAT

He then asked me to keep pedaling while he grilled me about my fitness goals and dreams (which I don't really have, oops). I explained to him that I just want to be healthy and I'm not trying to get ripped for anything. He, however, had different plans for lowly ol' Kenzie-Wimpy-Pants-MaGee (that's me). 

Him: "Just tell me your fitness dream."

Me:

Him: What do you want to look like? *fist bump*

Me: A human? Me? Myself? McKenzie? Help.

Him: So like...when you look at yourself in your birthday suit, in the mirror, what do you imagine your dream body being? *fist bump*

Me:

*sending telepathetic messages into the void*: HELP ME SOMEONE HELP

Me, in real life: Okay, ummm well I don't do that...and I guess I just want to be...HEALTHY.

Him: Okay, let's go lift some weights. You're gonna be so ripped it's insane. *double fist bump*

Me: I need some water again. *runs out the sliding glass doors and into my car, which counts as vigorous exercise*

Jk, I went and "lifted" weights (correction: the weights lifted me, off the ground and into outer space). And he told me that I really should get a trainer because I am weak. He didn't explicitly say the w-word, but he said "You're having trouble lifting that barbell there." Then he hi-fived the girl pumping iron next to me. LIKE, okAY, I gET it, you're only hi-fiving the real fitness gurus and the rest of us get FIST BUMPS. 

And again I say, the best things in life are not free (except pizza, if you get free pizza congratz to you and yours).