walkin' in a slushy wetland full of discarded gum wrappers and sadness

What? I don't write the Christmas Carols, I just...sing them.

It's that time of year when Christmas is literally one week away and I'm still drowning in grading. And, just to make sure those eyebags of mine never go away, I signed up for an online class. During the break. During the three weeks of the year when I should be writing my thesis. Yes, during that time.

I haven't posted much on this blog this semester because of reasons like such as because oh wait what was I saying? 

As I was grading earlier today, I happened upon this line: "Unrealistic is defined as something that is not real." 

Me:

sad: there were other lines just like that one

sadder: this was the first image that popped up on Google search when I typed "Kuzco's poison"

saddest: the comment underneath the image

SO ANYWAY HOW IS EVERYONE ELSE DOING.

This isn't supposed to be a complaining post but it's starting to turn into one....werhph. You know what, this is my blog, and I can spell things wrong all I want and I can complain and then one day this blog will be archived, just like DJ Trump's Twitter. Just think about that for a second....wait no maybe don't.

this week:

• I consistently went to bed at 1am only to fall asleep at around 3am, which happens to be the same time the birds living in my ceiling wake up. 
• YEAH THERE'S BIRDS LIVING IN MY CEILING.
• Anyway.
• I slept in my clothes twice. There is no longer a difference between my asleep clothes and my awake clothes.
• I responded to a student email with "Hey girl" before I realized who I was talking to
• I found an M&M in my bed and threw it on my nightstand, whereupon it broke into like 5,000 pieces. I shrugged and went back to bed.
• I cried in the shower a couple times (totally normal for this time of year, don't werrryy, mom).
• I watched one too many Hallmark movies (more than 0 is too many). Every year, g-dangit. Every year I think I won't get sucked in and then I start to watch one and get confused by all the plot holes and fast forward to the end and roll my eyes and then watch another one. Is this how addicts feel? Must be.
• I had a brownie and/or cookies for lunch...thrice. 
• I used the word thrice.

Hey what day is it? Because I keep thinking it's Wednesday and Wednesday has only happened once this week so I know I'm wrong.

I might need a stretcher by the time May 5th rolls around. 

things that matter/things that don't

source

This has been on my mind lately. Especially lately. Ok so listen.

This week in digital folklore, we talked about the weirdness of identity. The weirdness of identity=my thesis (but in poetry form). Basically, what we think about ourselves is not what we use to express ourselves, but it's all we have. So like your clothes, your hair, your makeup, your cool toys, your books, your taste in music, none of that really expresses who you are. Then there's what you think other people think of you, which gets weirder. Because that's not who you are either, but it's a lot easier to talk about. We care way more about how others think of us than how we think of us. And it's even further from our true selves than what we use to communicate who we are. Are you still following dis?

Okay so then we get to what we think others think we think we are. And what they think we think they think we are. WAT. But it's all about us, about our identities, and how they are really weird and defining them gets weirder. What we have to define them are things like words, which are so abstract. They are simply not enough to express things like love (for instance, you may love your spouse, but you also love that bag of chips on the counter) or sadness or guilt. 

As I'm scrolling through Instagram these days, I see a lot of people doing amazing things/being amazing. They have perfect lives, o woe is me! Why? Why does this bother us? We demand imperfection! We want to know that people are real, and imperfections=real. And yet, seemingly perfect people are the ones with all the followers (real or internet-ish). The equation just doesn't add up.

Which brings me to the eternal things. The things that do matter because they have permanence. A.M. Royden said, "Learn to hold loosely all that is not eternal." And I think what's bothering me about all of the stuff on Instagram, all the stuff that gets attention... is not permanent. But we spend so much time thinking about it. We're not just spending money on it, we're spending time and energy on it. And yo, I don't have a lot of time or energy these days. Not nearly enough is left over to worry about the midcentury modern furniture I don't have or the trips I am not going on or the lipstick I absolutely positively must buy cuz it doesn't smudge.

It makes sense that focusing too much on those things would make me feel out of place and miserable and weird, cuz those things aren't eternal, but I am. Even though there's parts of my identity that are hard to define, there are things I do know: I am a child of God, I always have been, and I always will be. I am eternal.

this list is for me, but it could be for you, too.

things that do matter:

• my family + any time I spend with them
• making the burdens of those around me much lighter
• praying as much as I can to feel peace in a confusing world
• keeping my eyes on the Savior
• temple work
• teaching my future children to be kind human beings

things that don't matter (in the eternal scheme of things):

• whether or not I put on makeup today
• how many cardigans I own
• how many concerts I went to this year
• if I have adult acne (ugh)

That last list was way harder to make than I thought it would be. I'm not saying that just because temporal things are just that--temporal--we shouldn't spend any time on them. If putting on makeup every day makes you feel good about yourself, do it. But if you happen to lack perfectly sculpted brows, I don't think you should beat up yourself about it. The thing I am most afraid of is extremism, and right now I find myself leaning too far towards caring about things that have no eternal value at all. And really, it's getting old. 

'"The Son of man came … to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45) is one of the clearest statements in the Gospels about the meaning and purpose of Jesus Christ’s suffering, death, and Resurrection--they were the price He paid to redeem all mankind. “Ransom” is translated from the Greek word lutron, meaning a sum paid to secure another person’s release from bondage or captivity. In Old Testament times, when someone was in bondage, the price of his release was expected to be paid by his kinsmen (see Leviticus 25:48–49). As the Firstborn of our Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ paid the ransom required to free all mankind from the bondage of sin. According to 1 Peter 1:18–19, the ransom was paid not “with corruptible things, as silver and gold, … but with the precious blood of Christ.'"

this one is dedicated to my apple chips. sure love ya.

Oh this is just too hilarious.

For fours years I lived in Rexburg, ID and was therefore surrounded by engagement ring ads constantly. You think I'm kidding? No. They actually go around to all the student apartments and leave catalogs on all the porches. In fact, some of our guy friends cut out pictures of the bride models and hung them on their wall (but I'm not gonna open that can of worms-needing-therapy).

After that I graduated and went back to the same singles ward I'd been going to for four years. I had crushes on a few guys but they were never monumental enough to make me do anything.

Enter Tinder. I used Tinder only for fun and then the guys started blocking me (I only responded to them with Van Halen lyrics, so I deserved this). And so I shrugged and said, "That's okay, dating is not for me."

School was, though. Always school. So I moved and came to get an education for the jillionth time it would seem. That first semester nearly crushed my soul in half it was so hard. I walked into my parents' house after my last day of classes and fell face down on the ground for a well-earned nap.

The next semester was easier (but colder). On January 2(?) I went to FHE down the street. I hadn't gone to FHE during the fall semester because I'd had a class on Monday evenings, so my new goal was to start going so people didn't think I was inactive (this will become funnier in just a second).

So. We go to this house and there's people there I don't know, obviously, because I haven't been going to FHE. We make a pinata and play "water pong," but mostly I sit there and watch and take stupid videos/pictures of everyone with my boomerang app. Observe:

On January 30th it snowed a bunch, so the next morning I was slightly late for church because I had to change out of my winter boots into church shoes (in the car) (in the church parking lot), which gets complicated when you don't want to flash anyone.

I remember feeling really sick that day because my health was still on the down low, so I went home after church and was literally laying down for a nap when my phone rang. I was like "???!?!?!?? who's calling me right now???? I need to sleep."

Normally I would've ignored this call and just pretended I was sleeping because naps are essential to my life, but I did not. I answered. It was the FHE "mom and dad" (the two people in charge of coordinating FHE for each group) wanting to come over right then and visit me. Again, my thought was ?????????? because this was unusual. I wasn't a part of planning FHE at all, and they weren't my visiting or home teachers, so why were they coming over, g-dangit?!

Reluctantly, I got out of bed and went upstairs. I know that I looked exhausted and my skin had a yellow tint because my liver was acting up (cute), but I did not care.

Later I found out that they thought I was inactive (told you) because Houston, whose name I legitimately thought was Dennis (because they sound incredibly similar, you know) had looked up everyone in the group on Facebook, seen me, and said to himself, "I've never seen her before, she has to be inactive." HA. Joke's on you, Houston/Dennis. Joke's on you.

Well, after chatting with me and my roommate, they realized I was not inactive, just a grad student, and that I had in fact been coming to church for the entire fall semester. They left, I went back to bed. Later, Houston came back to my house to shovel the driveway (later he told me he was hoping he'd see me again, but again, I was passed out in my bed, HA). I woke up to the sound of people trying to break up the icebergs in our driveway, went back upstairs, and started to make banana bread cuz the smell of ripe bananas is awful, amirite? I wasn't doing it to impress anyone because I didn't think there was anyone to impress.

They came in, I told them they could have banana bread if they wanted, but it had forever to bake and they had to go so I just said I'd bring some to FHE the next day.

a picture of me on that day. we got stuck in our driveway even after they shoveled it. 

just to illustrate the snow. lots of it. there was a lot. of snow. such snow.

After FHE the next night, I realized I'd forgotten to give them the banana bread I'd promised, so I just texted Houst asking him if he still wanted some. By this point in time, my roommate Kyrie was like "Hmm I think he likes you," and I set out to prove her wrong because I'm always right about boys. I was like "if he really likes me he'll find a reason to stay and hang out when he comes to get the bread..."

He said he'd come get it. When he got to my house, he stood in the doorway...didn't even come inside all the way. He kept saying "I'm soooo tired, man I'm tired, my eyes are so heavy, I need to hibernate, wow exhausted..." you get the picture. I thought to myself, "Bingo, he does not like me" but I wasn't that disappointed because I wasn't emotionally invested in it. I gave him the banana bread and said "Haha, yeah, maybe go to bed??? Byeeeeee." *slams door in face* (just kidding)

The following things then happened, in this order:

1. That weekend, on Saturday morning, I got a really long text from Houston asking me if I wanted to go see a movie with him and his friends, but... they were in Ogden. I said "Oh yeah that would be fun but I don't have a car..." This is funny because it's a pattern in my life. When I have loads of free time + transportation, nobody asks to hang out, but as soon as I become a wandering car-less vagabond people wanna chill. The injustice!
2. That weekend, I also got called to be a part of the FHE planning committee. Nice move, God. Smooth. 
3. I texted Houston to ask him what my calling entailed, he said we would have a meeting the next Monday after FHE.
4. The conversation ended.
5. ...Until ten minutes later when he started texting me again. That's when I was like "hmmm...highly suspect...he's asking me if I like his tie? Weird." Still kind of oblivious. It was Super Bowl weekend and I was doing everything but watch the Super Bowl. He still asked me if I was, though, and I said "No way, I'm making valentine's." And then he said, "Did you make me one?" Still, though. I mean still. I was not picking up what he was putting down. I said "Uh, yeah" and sent him a pic of the one that said "I'd Never Vote for Trump. Not Even For You." Tru luv.
6. So, that next Monday, FHE was a fireside/devotional about dating and marriage. The angels in heaven were really trying to drop the hints on me, I guess, but I was not getting it. Houston walked in late but sat right in front of us. I felt sorta awkward because...well, it's like when you have a dream about someone and then you see them in public again and you're like "ah we had a weird moment in my dream now I don't know how to act around you." Except it wasn't a dream it was real LIFE which made it more uncomfortable for me.
7. Anyhow, during that fireside my roommate passed him a note or texted him or something and said "If you need tips on how to date McKenzie, just ask me." I was soooo embarrassed when I found out she did that later. Like mortified. Apparently he turned red in the face so that made me feel even more uncomf. Kyrie, being Kyrie, totally invited him to eat dinner with us after that, and since I couldn't eat the food they were eating, I just sat there and watched goat videos and laughed like an idiot. It was more like I was the third wheel. Perfect.
8. After "eating" at Morty's, we dropped Houston back off at his car. My bladder was full (I had been drinking lots of water due to being uncomfortable, here's a citation if you need one), so I ran into the church to go to the bathroom. Didn't say goodbye or anything. But everyone who's read this blog since its inception knows that my bladder's grace period is basically the size of...well I can't think of anything tiny that would make sense to complete this metaphor and I'm very sleep-deprived right now. MOVING ON. I came back out to the car and he was still in there. ? You'd think by now I would say something really flirtatious, but instead I said, "You're still here?" By this time, the heavens were probably like, "Ok, this one is not worth it. Let's move on to someone more teachable." Then we talked about music for a little while and he left. As soon as he got out of his car Kyrie screamed, "OK OK I THINK HE LIKES YOU." I said "Huh? No." (I'm an English major) (sometimes it surprises even me, guys). 
9. When we got home that night, Houston texted Kyrie (while she was with me) and said "Okay what are your tips?" The next Tuesday while I was tutoring in the writing center, he called me, and when I didn't answer, he texted me to ask me out. I'm such a terrible person, so I just called him back and left him a voicemail saying he had to call me back and ask me over the phone. HAH WHO AM I. *shudder*
10. Because he could not wait for our date that Saturday, he set up a game night with my roommate to be at my house. He brought me apple chips because I was/am allergic to everything else.
11. Our first date was February 13th. Like, what? Couldn't be any more obvious, right? God was basically dropping an anvil on me like "wake up, my child. WAKE UP." Well, the good news is, I woke up. And I wasn't dreaming. 

ignore my messy floor. Houst gave this to me a week after our first date. I know.

that same week, he came to one of my classes and pretended to be a student (his alibi: "I missed her morning class so now I'm coming to this one." we had a quiz that day.)

embarrassing

Every gosh dang time I say "embarrassing" (out loud and in my head), I say it in the Ew Sara voice. How embarrassing. More embarrassing: it took me five tries to spell embarrassing correctly.

About a month ago, I was in the middle of a lecture (lolz, that sounds like a fancy version of what I was actually doing, which is tripping over my sentences/chewing on the end of my dry-erase marker while I called on students whose eyes were slowly betraying them like "helllpppp when does this class end").

ANYhow, I'm standing up there and all of a sudden the door opens, but not without some struggle. You see, this door is a little bit rickety because it's in the Engineering Lab (yes, my English class is in the Engineering Lab....whatever). This particular building has no windows because they want everyone at USU to easily identify engineering majors by their pale complexions and inability to make eye contact with anyone I guess. I don't even K. So anyhow, the hinges of this door probably haven't been serviced since 1973 and the kid on the other end (whoever he was) just could not get it open. I knew it wasn't any of my students cuz they were all accounted for (ha, it sounds like I'm taking roll after a natural disaster) (the natural disaster was my lecture) (ha ha ha, get it).

So in the middle of me talking, this door is just rattling and the guy on the other side is trying to get in but he just can't handle the door, and my students are now totally distracted by the door getting pushed open a little then closed again, then opened a little, then closed, then op

And I'm still talking to pretend like I don't know what's going on but let's be real I really wanted to see if this guy was going to make it through the door. The suspense was killing me.

Other things killing me in this moment:

• a guy trying to open a door was more interesting to my students than my lecture
• a guy trying to open a door was more interesting to me than my lecture

So finally after what seems like ten years he opens the door with a loud screech and it kinda swings open all dramatic and hits the wall on the other side like in mobster movies (uhhh citation please??). He stands there for another 5 years (time slows down when you're experiencing a humiliating moment in front of 20+ strangers...trust me. I know. I experience it twice a week). Realizes he's just "opened" (lol that's not the verb describing what he did but I honestly have no idea what it was) the door to a classroom he thought was his...but alas! It's not his class.

His eyes get really big and this awful knowledge starts to spread over his face...like he's suddenly aware of what he's done and he knows it's going to haunt him for years to come. Observe:

♫ Hit me like a freight train, baby ♪

You think the story ends here, and it would if this was a perfect, exalted world, and all the awkwardness was burned out of us by the Holy Ghost. But no. 

He slowly backs out of the classroom, "swinging" the door shut behind him (again, wrong verb, because whatever he did was not as simple or fluid as "swinging," but my words escape me when describing this scene). Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know that the old rubber doorstop fell down when he opened the door. So the door is now stuck.

He can't shut it and he couldn't open it. For him, this is Dante's Seventh Circle. Probably. Now he's yanking the door towards him without noticing the doorstop. All of us are frozen in place, looking down at the ground like, "Come on man, get it together, look down at the doorstop, it's right there, it's blocking the door, please shut the door, oh my gosh I can't take this awkwardness anymore, please can we dismiss class early and stop watching this kid try to close the door that he never meant to open, this is some kind of fresh hell...." I realize these are probably just my thoughts and not my students'. I realize that. 

Finally after much yanking and forehead-sweat-beadlets and buggy eyes and awkward grunts and faces like this from onlookers (me + my students):

...he closed the door. With a loud slam. And then we all exhaled finally and I tried to go on with the lecture but mostly we just fake-laughed to ourselves because what the actual he*k?! I feel for him, I truly do. Which is why I'm sharing his story on the world wide web.

this granolie bar is ten levels below gross but I'm still eating it

me @ the internet, social media, newspapers, and almost everyone during election season. 

and Larabars. 

Once, like six years ago, I ran a Ragnar (for the first and last time, R(eeses) I(n) P(ieces) my body). We ate bananas and candy and those Goo packs which hardly need to be digested at all (and aren't really, if I'm being disgustingly honest). And we ate Larabars.

Larabars are healthy granola bars, basically made for people on Whole 30. That's because they're fruit, dates, and nuts, all mashed up and pressed into a rectangular mold and then given very deceptive names like "Brownie" and "Cashew Cookie" and "Key Lime Pie." When John tasted the Key Lime pie Larabar for the first time, he said, "Bleh, PineSol!" I'm eating a Larabar right now. /end story

I am *this* close to deleting my Facebook because the election.

I am also *this* close to deleting my brain because it's now "that time" (whatever that even means). Last night when I opened my textbook I heard myself saying "No, thanks." Senioritis has officially begun, and not a day late.

I have run into like ten students (current and former) this week, and only one has acknowledged me. Students, if you think running into your teacher is awkward, just remember it's 10x worse for them, cuz we already have to stand in front of you 2-3 times a week and pretend like we know what we're doing, and then when we see you on campus and wave to you for like five minutes without you acknowledging us....it's just....no. Nightmare. I think I even stood next to a student while he was walking and said "hey!" OUT LOUD and waved and he looked straight ahead. Meanwhile his friends were like ??????? hey lady????? u ok?????????????????????

I might have Tourette's, guys, but otherwise, I'm fine.

Weird things:

• a girl I follow on Instagram said her boyfriend "is the best booger she's ever picked." Uh? Gross?
• somehow the bottle of salt (bottle???) that's been on my desk for 4 months still has salt in it. weird.
• I ate a Larabar (?!?) (still not over it) (and I have more at home)
• Why? Do? I? Use? So? Many? Of? These?????????????????????????
• one of my students wrote "I love you" in Spanish in his journal which he then turned into me. Should I write back? "No gracias."

One last thing. We had a devotional on Sunday at 5pm. Our church also gets out at 5pm, so my blood sugar was basically in the depths of hell at this point, so I sat in the foyer, ate a sandwich, and listened to the talks over the intercom (intercom?). Intercom. So. The theme of this fireside was "But If Not" (based off this talk, a great talk, by the way). BUT. There was no balance between "But if Not" and "But If So." The poster for this fireside was a close-up of a girl's eye with a solitary tear coming out of it. Uh....depressing. And it was. The fireside, I mean. I felt very discouraged afterwards. And then I came home and all my roommates were saying "But if not!" after every positive remark someone made. Merp.

OK WELL that was a random and pointless blog, you're thinking. And I'm thinking. And everyone is always thinking.

things houston says, part II

Since this made Houston a veritable star last time, I figured I'd do him a solid again, since I made him rub my feet and legs the other night without shaving beforehand. I'm sorry.

H: "They should make a Bourne movie about Jason Bourne getting baptized and call it Jason Born Again."

H: "These road closures are really prickling my pears..."

Seeing the Guava Goddess flavor of kombucha:

"Ooh I want that one, that was my nickname in high school."

*trying to understand why the stop sign in front of the elementary school was flashing at 12am*

"Ummm well there's no flashing at schools so I don't know why they'd have that there."

H: You are so full of condensation right now (trying to say condescension)

Talking about The Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz, CA:

M: "Hey we can get a free bumper sticker!"

H: "Yes! I want it! Then I'll put it on my butt...the mystery spot."

H, about his little brother: "He only weighs like 80 pounds...can't even go on a zip line yet."

H (monologuing): "Cache Valley? No cash valley....more like Student Loan Valley."

(in San Francisco): "Ah, parking garages. Designed by the finest architects in the world."

*imagining the life of a fundamentalist*

"Yeah our family had so many Bump-Its." 

When he was tired/it was late at night: "ugh, I really want a crouton."

*at an art gallery*

H: You know these are scratch n sniff, right?

M: Hey that one is cool

H: You know what would make it cooler? If I was eating a corn dog while I was looking at it."

At the end of That Thing You Do:

"Wink! Wink so the movie will be over!!!"

(I think I was wearing a cardigan...)
H: "Now you can look like one of those hot librarians that has to use a step stool to get books..."

M: "Uhh is it the step stool that makes a librarian hot?"

H: "No, it's just a good angle."
M: ....................................................................

As we were going into a craft store...

H (seriously): "Don't let me buy anything else in here."

*impulse buys soap*
(lest you think I am joking, Houston once told me he never impulse buys anything, except for hand soap, and this is true)

*he was teaching me about welding late at night*

(I gently patted his shoulder and said:)

"You should become a teacher. And I...will become a narcoleptic."

*I was taking forever to get out of his car and holding the door handle*

H: "I think it's just a pull, then push."

*points to bread bag which says "Premium White" on it*

H: "You can put that on me."
M: "Gross."

*in Spanish*

H: "I said "let's light a candle (candela) and invite Nelson Mandela."
M: "k"

H: "If you were a Macy's mannequin I'd window shop you."

H: "During my farewell talk, I called Allie a baller and she cried. Wept. Wept and wept."

H: "What's the difference between your face and the sunset? I can see your face at all times of the day!" 

M: "Whoa that was corny"

H: (sheepishly) "I know... I put the corn on my own cob."

H: "See this face?!"
*long pause*

"I was born with it."

*talking about how we want the Harry Potter movies remade*

H: "That's all I've ever wanted. I also want the church to hire Wes Anderson to make all their movies."

*wearing a skull shirt*

M: "Uhh what is that?"

H: "This is my post-temple attire."
M: ........
H: "It's Nike!"

And, as per tradition, screenshots of our conversations from the last 2 weeks:

No acknowledgement of my dad joke whatsoever. At least he's attentive to my yogurt needs.

I had a headache, and someone in Sunday School mentioned Vietnam Vets. We shouldn't sit by each other anymore. 

Just out of the blue one day, I got this message....

math majors, lolzzzzz

One of my fave things Houston does is show me a math equation he's worked on and then he asks, "Does this look right to you?" 

HA. No. It will never look right to me. Good DAY, sir!

ruhl quick before I go teach class

FALL IS HERE IN CASE YOU DIDN'T ALREADY KNOW

IT'S DECORATIVE GOURD SEASON NOW

The other day Houston said, "If you were a Macy's mannequin I'd window shop you."

So.

I'm compartmentalizing everything these days because I've managed to put myself in a real tight spot this semester, but I gotta graduate, people! And I wanted to make my last semester the easiest it could be, and now I'll only have to take one class in the spring. Just gotta get through the next 3 months without face-planting on my desk, stacked with un-graded papers.

I'll come back later. Right now I need to go teach my students how to not be easily offended by stuff they don't like. 

things I write when I'm putting off finalizing a syllabus

thanks to you,

I now have much better taste in movies. Before we met, I was a self-proclaimed "movie snob" (oof) because I watched movies that were black and white and enjoyed them. Now I know a movie doesn't have to be old, made by Disney, or have a happy ending to be "good."

I know way more about current events and politics. The only thing I ever learned from politics before was from scrolling through Facebook in agony.

I appreciate dad humor (this pains me to say, but pain is a sign of growth, I think #deep).

I am better at asking for things that I need, because nobody is telepathic, even though I sometimes act like they are.

I have a rediscovered love of very bad Mexican food (Beto's, why? Why must you entrap me once again?).

I see a lot of things differently.

When you've been seeing things pretty much one way (your way) for your whole life, it's crazy refreshing to see everything through a different lens.

ur the Bill Murray to my Scarlett J. 

ur in(e) my heart

Who wants to hear an epic tale of total and utter shame? YEAH, ME TOO! Oh, wait, but this is about me. Keep it straight, McKenzie, keep it straight.

I was listening to a podcast the other day and it was about an embarrassing moment this girl had, which was quite similar to a few moments in my own life all revolving around the teetering strength of my bladder. Basically, "teetering strength" means weakness, but it's like reverse psychology because I used the word "strength" to tell you my bladder was weak. There's gotta be a fancy word for what I just did. ........lying?

Liz and I were walking home from school and speaking to each other in an alien language we had made up. Btw, this was in 8th grade. So we're walking and it's probably about 2 miles from the school to our houses (we lived next door to each other like all American Girl doll protégés do). I had ingested a very large amount of water in seventh period, like I always did because I was trying to get away from Jacob Young who was constantly kneeling by my desk and proposing to me. It's not easy being a dead ringer for Felicity (1774). Observe:

What? I'm sure that's what Jacob saw in me. Otherwise, what in the he*k do you think he was doing kneeling by my desk and asking me to quote "bear his children" close quote!!!!??????? Yeah me neither. So anyways, I was constantly leaving math class to "get a drink" cuz it was the only way Mr. Malcolm would let me leave and get away from Jake (of course his name was Jake, of COURSE it was, I couldn't make this crud up if I tried).

And because I am a compulsive water-drinker in awkward situations, but also, unfortunately, irrationally afraid of public bathrooms (except later this irrational fear would become more rational when I took a job cleaning bathrooms at BYU-Idaho, and I don't want to remember all the hair I saw but it was more than whatever's left after the filming of every Hobbit film). ANYHOW, are you getting this? I drank too much water but I also refused to use the bathroom 'til I got home, which was a 2-mile walk, which would be doable except that I was talking with my best friend in an alien language, which had the effect of constricting my bladder even more because I was losing it.

Fig. 1 (Equation 1)
10 gal water - 1 trip to the bathroom =

We were about halfway to our house, in front of the Wilson's (our usual target for TP-ing), when I felt my legs give out a little. That's called k-a-r-m-a, kids. When your legs give out anytime, it's a bad situation. Walking up Old Main Hill on an icy winter day? Standing in front of the entire kindergarten class and a wave of nervousness washes over you? A gigantic ball that's absolutely coming straight for you and you know there's no way you're gonna catch it because you're SEVEN years old but your gym teacher says it's "fun"? Legs give out? Bad. Bladder full? Legs are the only things holding it in?

is NOTHING easy?!!! 

This egg here represents what my bladder was doing.

It was like, this weird journey. First I was all relieved cuz you know it feels good to finally stop holding it in (a metaphor for holding in ur feelings, probably, but I can't go into that right now I'm too busy embarrassing myself), but then this shockwave of shock hit me and I was like "oh shoot sound the alarm," but the words sorta came out like a sneeze like when you're trying not to move very much so as not to blow up.

me: uffds

liz: haha yeah what does that mean? (remember she still thinks we're speaking in tongues)

me: ballder?

liz: what

me: peeeeeeeeeee

liz: *starts reciting her alien alphabet starting with the letter Q*

We walked a little further. Got past our piano teacher's house at which point I was pretty much doing a convoluted version of the "jerk" 

This is when it gets juicy. Wrong word choice, but you know. I can't really care anymore at this point. Liz walked away because she absolutely knew what was going on and didn't want to be a part of it (totally understand now), and I sat down on the sidewalk and just let it happen. By the way, it wasn't raining, which is weird because this was in Oregon, where it rains 80% of the time, so I didn't have a good cover. I just kinda sat on the sidewalk like, "Yeah...just sitting. I love sitting! I was so tired from walking that two miles and since I'm two houses from my house I am going to sit now and just....gosh I love sitting." *Liz slowly backs away*

This would've been a humiliating enough end, but then my mom came around the corner all cheery faced and skipping, coming to fetch the mail, and we had one of those community mailboxes which just so happened to be past where I was sitting.

mom: what are you doing sitting on the sidewalk

me: what? what sidewalk?

mom: uh you sitting in a puddle? (this wasn't a question, but my mother is graceful, so it sounded like one)

me: are you getting the mail? 

mom: yes...? 

me: okay heheh cool well let me know if I get anything *would be literally impossible for me to have mail because I'm an 8th grader, but a girl can dream*

mom: where's Liz?

me: she went home, but I wanted to take a break...from walking (my mom, by now, must know that my physical endurance is totally shot in every way)

mom: are you feeling sick?

me, willing the sun to heat up suddenly and zap the ever-spreading puddle around me: huh?

mom: kay....

me: ...........

mom: ........................

Gee, I thought this would be cathartic but it actually wasn't.

*therapy*

"even in hell I'd be the center of attention."-Houston

this is my life now

As you all well know by now, I like to record the ridiculous/awful things people say without them realizing it and then publish it later on this blog! I think that's called something else in the real world...like...libel...or something?? Heheh anyways who cares about the law, right? *something about freedom of speech*

*Me, trying to get something off his shirt where his biceps are*
H: "yeah, they real"
(should be noted that we weren't dating at this point) 

H: "That was your first mistake...most girls wouldn't be around me without a knife."
(I have no context for this now so it sounds realllyyyyyy bad)

*coming to a realization about the importance of fashion*:
"Wait...your shoes do matter."

We were watching 2001: A Space Odyssey (weirdest movie ever) when this scene came on: (basically, a bunch of gorillas gather around a big piece of space cement which falls from the sky and subsequently lose their minds)

Houston's reaction:"It's just like when a girl walks into elders quorum in the singles ward!"

H: "They should make a separate hymnbook for girls called 'Hers.'"

"If a horse speaks in code is it called morse?"

"I'm so strong that I can not work out for years and I'll still be stronger than you."
*sarcasm*

Being dead serious and straight-faced:
H: "You're... a home breaker."
me: "Do you mean homewrecker?????"

M: "There's something in your eye.."

H: "It's not my glimmer?"

M: "Your eyeballs match your face right now!" (Bloodshot eyes, sunburned skin)

H: "You mean they're both pretty?"

(we don't actually talk about his eyes as much as this post would insinuate)

H: "I thought about you all day today except for when I was eating cuz then I was thinking about food."

H, trying to find the cemetery: "Where are the dead people?" 

H (no context because there is none): "I had a really good ham today. It was really tender. And fatty. That's how you know a ham is good."

Me: 😐

Helping me walk over ice: "I used to escort this old lady to church. This reminds me of that. Also you're about the same height as her." 

H: "Do you think Larry King was sponsored by  light bright?"

H: "You put a lot of lettuce in your omelette."

M: "That's not lettuce that's kale."

H: "Oh. I've never seen kale before."

😂😂😭

H, reminiscing on heroic summers of his youth: "We all life guarded together and it was really nice because we never had to save anyone." 

Me trying to write something in his mom's Mother's Day card: "What should I say?"

Houston: say, "It's a good thing you're not my mom because then I couldn't date your son!"
Me: "No"

*Me, talking about a podcast regarding Richard Nixon*
H: "I don't think it's entertaining to watch Republican presidents humiliating themselves."
HAHAHA this is even funnier now than when he first said it 

*sees risqué album cover*

His mom: yeah, that one's called A Star is Born

Houst: SOMEthing is about to be born!
(I am not going to put the album cover on here)

Me, quizzing Houst on previously learned veg knowledge: "Say, what's this vegetable?"

H: "It's kelp..."

Me: "No, kale."

H: "Well, kale comes from the ocean too...?"

H, impersonating me being a klutzbomb:
"I'm McKenzie and all my problems are self inflicted."

H, driving to St. George in the middle of the night:
"Everyone should drive in the right lane except for me."
me: *is immediately comforted*
(not)

*Me, citing the gross verse in the Celine Dion song that says "there were nights of endless pleasure" as the reason I wasn't allowed to listen to the song as kid"

Houst: "What! Well, they probably just started a Monopoly game at 9 and it went all night!"

H: "I put the man in mayonnaise."

M: "Please don't ever say that again." 

Me *reading a sign* "Under new ownership...that's a good band name."

Houston: "Or a good relationship status on Facebook."

Me: "Only if you're the guy."

Houston: "Do you think if pigs knew how good they tasted they would eat each other?"

Shae: "What's a black currant?"

Houston: "It's a steady flow of black culture."
btw, THIS is a black currant:

His mom, asking about cheese curds, not Kurds: "Did you get your curds?"

Houst: "Yes, and some Shiites." (OOF)

Houst: "I'm going to make a gang called the Doppel Gang. You can only join it if you look like me."

H: "You need to lower your bar"

Me: "I only set the bar low for limbo"

H: "You wouldn't even have to bend backwards, just walk under it."

Me (complaining about something lame probably) "...ooookay fine, I'll stop talking. Forever."

Houst: "Aw, you'd do that for me??"

Me: "Hey you have a hole in your shirt...uhh right over the nipple."

Houston: "Yeah, easy access point." 

Me: ??????
H: ????????????????????????? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

While watching The Sixth Sense:

"He [Haley Joel Osment] just needs Pokemon Go, but for dead people! Gotta catch em all!"

an autocorrect accident is just an opportunity for some people*

*Houston

and my facial reaction to almost all of these is:

what a weirdo

friday thought

Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer.

— Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves