bla bla bla fall bla bla

Sometimes the memory of my career in college really fades into the background...like when I write sentences like the one above ^^

I'm listening to the Up and Vanished podcast which honestly I do not recommend. DO NOT. Did you ever hear of the satirical podcast The Onion made called "A Very Fatal Murder" (yes, that's the name)? Well, that podcast is making fun of this one. Because....it's just ridiculous. They take a very serious cold case and turn it into a soap opera. And the guy that hosts is not a reporter or investigator or anything, but he acts like he is. And it's just the wooorst.

So, you're like, uh why are you listening to it?

Well maybe I just need something really dumb to listen to while I'm doing mindless data entry at work, eh?! And maybe listening to dumb things and doing said data entry is giving me a Canadian accent (only in writing)!!

I'm worried about myself.

All summer long I complain about the dry heat and the sweat driblets in my arm crease and the garments sticking to my back and everything being uncomfortable and wallowing like a dying hog and thEN September comes and I think "Okay NOW it's time to stop sweating and I can put on a light jacket or something" but by the middle of the day it's back up to 90 and I'm like when will I get to wear my leather jacket, oh weather gods?! And then October comes and the real fall lasts for 10 days and then it snows and I'm wearing my big puffy coat all day at work so WHO EVEN CARES ABOUT FASHION. Why do I even spend money on clothes?!

These are the very important questions.

Just a review...so far I have answered:

1) Why do you listen to stupid podcasts that you hate with semi-irresponsible reporting and spooky elevator music?
and
2) Why do you spend money on clothes when you live somewhere with such a fickle climate where it would be cheaper to just wear long johns under a giant ankle-length coat all day/every day?

I was teaching a class today ("teaching" is a loose term for what I was doing...), and during one of the in-between class times, one of the students asked the professor if she could take an important phone call in the middle of class.

Here is the conversation that ensued:

girl: I need to take a phone call during class...it might not happen, but if it does, can I step outside for a second?
teacher: yeah that's fine...
girl: ok cool. I think my boyfriend is going to break up with me.

~*SWERVE~*

teacher: ...... (nervously sweating) (yeah I guess I'm back to talking about sweating)
girl: he hasn't spoken to me in 3 days and I tried to call him this morning and he didn't answer but he said he would call me back later.
teacher: so how do you know he's going to break up with you?
girl: I just....I think it's going to happen.
teacher: (still nervous) are you...sad about that?
girl: mmm, yeah. *shrugs*

WELL OKAY THEN.

Do u ever look at your 28-year-old self in the mirror and say this?

I think my new life aspiration is to be the next Anne of Green Gables. But my name will be..... McKenzie of Brown Brick Buildings.

HE*K YA

faux-UTI pains, John Lennon, and marketing

 when you're auditing a class but the professor still expects you to be in the group project

NOOoooooooOOOO

What do all of those things have in common?!

Nothing.

Except for the fact that they all had something to do with my week! And that's gotta be the lamest mutual interest ever.

I gave a tour of the library to some 14-yo boys today and let me just say, when you're stuck in an elevator for four floors with ten boys of a certain age, you will wish elevators came with Glade Plug-Ins.

My iPhone stopped working suddenly on Thursday morning and in my frustration I told my husband he could go get me a Google phone (to his delight). Well, I've had it for a little over a day now and I'm not sure I can do it. I am so weak. The thing about iPhones that I liked (which some people really H8) is that there's a lack of options. It comes with a podcast app, woo. I don't have to download one! It comes with ringtones. I don't have to pick one of my favorite songs as my alarm, which would slowly destroy that song for me anyway. YOU KNOW?! I think I've just become a victim of Apple's ruthless marketing.

And I know how much of a victim I really am because I started auditing a marketing class this week and gosh I never realized how much of what I consume is based on marketing. It's like subliminal BRAINWASHING. That's not a thing. But you get it. I learned that my Smith's rewards card is not reeeeally a tactic to save me money, but to track what I buy and then sell that data to the companies who want me to buy from them.

I mean, wat.

If you're not interested in marketing well you can just get off my blog then.

Jk. I promise I'm not tryna market John Lennon or UTIs to you (because who would want to market those two things together, and why??).

Speaking of UTIs, I've never had one, but yesterday I thought I had one for sure based on some..specific symptoms. And it feels like my body is being sawed in half from the inside. But whatever. I will ignore it until it goes away or I slowly die.

JOHN LENNON HELP ME THROUGH THIS.

The first week of school has been gr9. And I'm not even in school, you guys.

*you're still wondering why John Lennon got mentioned on this blog*

*well, I'll never tell*

(there's no reason)

who do I have to throat punch to get the A/C turned down in here?!

By "in here," I mean work. There are probably 30 vents in every square foot (hyperbole), so I wear a sweater to work, but then after leaving  the temperature has climbed back up to 95 and I'm sweating the whole way home.

You're like, there's an easy solution for this. And I know what it is. TURN DOWN THE AIR CONDITIONING.

You thought I was going to say "just take off your sweater and put it in your backpack," didn't you?! Well I didn't. I paid this university a lot of tuition money (and my ROI is not working out very well right now), and I'm starting to think they used it to constantly pump out cold air in places that didn't need it.

I always get nostalgic around this time of year because school starting = fall, and fall = you're not going back to school, McKenzie, and therefore you = old.

Simple maths. And I'm kinda ready to be done with the whole school thing. I'm not in school anymore, it's true, but I work for the university, and I will not talk much about that because it'll put you to sleep, but let's just say I spend a lot of free time looking for other jobs. That's another thing that makes me want to throat punch someone.

I keep finding jobs that sound like my dream job, but they're not in Logan. My anxiety is probably at an all-time high. Just like the air conditioning.

turn

it

down

in

funky

town

I wasn't expecting that ending!

(and suddenly this got really deep and existential)

I am Sisyphus, self-checkout is my boulder

 me @ my past self who ever thought grocery shopping could be fun

Before I was married, I actually fantasized about grocery shopping with my husband. I thought it would be a real party, a true bonding experience. Just imagine it! The elevator music playing over the loudspeakers as the fruit guy stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. You pluck a grape from the bag in your cart and feed it to your man while the thunder recording plays from the produce section. The white bread is on sale. Sexy, right?

Well. MAYbe I was a bit naive back then (whoops, I still am, don't ask me when I found out how eggs are made).

Now, I'm more realistic. I have a plan. I try to go late at night when there's fewer people, and never ever on a Monday night. Weekend nights are surprisingly quiet, but only if you go after 10pm (wow that is a huuuge window. Huuuuge.). I'm usually not "dressed up" (i.e. wearing anything besides my pajamas) if I'm going to Wal-Mart. If I'm going Smith's, I'll throw on some lip balm and conceal the pits under my eyes. Oh, and Houston comes with, but only if the laundry is done (we're usually pulling double duty with laundry and groceries on the same day, and doing both of those things can really take a toll on someone's spirit, amen).

I started running into way too many former students at Smith's, so I pivoted, and now I go to Smith's Marketplace. It's like a weirder Fred Meyer (one aisle over from the milk, they're selling garbage cans and oven mitts with cats on them). 

It's cool because I can buy my food there but it's not cool because I overthink everything:

• Are these produce bags just for the organic produce? I don't wanna get charged for organic produce....they feel so thick...hmm
• I think I've seen that man here before. Oh no he's coming over here I hope not to talk to me.
• We don't need butter, but it's on sale.
• Grabbing a cart when the employee is trying to put the carts back at the same time is muy stressful!
• It is actually comical how long it takes me to decide on which loaf of bread to buy. 
• No it isn't. Because fiber. 
• I can't go down that aisle because somebody is already in it.
• These avocados are already halfway to guacamole.
• Yeah I think that girl just caught me singing a song about the pasta sauce...to the pasta sauce. I hope she's not in my ward.
• Never pay in cash unless you have exact change, because the trauma of spilling any coins the cashier gives back to you and holding up the line will make you want to fake your own death.

This last Saturday night, I had too many groceries for self-checkout, but there was only one regular checkout line open and the line was (here it comes again) huuuuge. So I went to self-checkout. A band of youths was just standing there staring and laughing and it was like the hyena scene in Lion King, and I was the elephant about to get eaten (really, it was not that dramatic). But the guy who helped me did have a ponytail and a clip-on phone case. And then I forgot my box of cereal in my haste to run.

 

 this is exactly it.

how to not have an anxiety attack every time you try to internet

I haven't logged on to my regular Instagram account in...a while. This is not a humble brag, or even a regular brag. I still use my smaller "favorites" account to occasionally stalk people and see what they're up to. Usually it's boring. I find myself instinctively opening it to "check on the world" and then I immediately close out of it cuz I think "uh wait, nothing is going on there."

If anyone knows how to talk a topic to death, it's me. And Victor Hugo. But mostly me.

I'm learning how to notice my emotions when they come and to let myself feel them. It turns out I'm terrible at letting myself feel, especially what you might call "negative" emotions. Here's a list of feelings I am amazingly good at feeling:

things I love to let wash over me while I'm sitting in the driveway listening to very emo music:
1) nostalgia
2) love
3) humor
4) whatever the feeling is that comes when you start daydreaming excessively. excitement + wonder?
5) hunger (ha)

And then, to contrast that very small list:

things I am horrible at letting myself feel (i.e. I bottle these emotions up and sell them at the County Fair. I've still never won a blue ribbon.)
1) guilt for things other people have done (yes this is real)
2) faith
3) sometimes, enthusiasm for everyday, mundane things
4) sadness
5) anxiety
6) stress
7) pride (a better way to say this one: confidence)

This list is not comprehensive, but just writing it out made me feel weird. I guess I let myself feel that emotion.

On a podcast I listen to, she said something like this: all the work you do trying not to feel an emotion is so much harder on you than just letting yourself feel it.

And noticing and understanding our emotions and why we're having them is healthy, because then we can learn to control them. I am not great at this, but I'm getting better. Holding on to negative emotions can actually cause physical illness, and I can actually tell when I'm doing this now because I start to get a headache, I get nauseated, I just feel physically gross.

Late last year, I started to notice that every time I spent more than 20 minutes on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, I started to feel like sludge. Sometimes I would cry. I would have intense FOMO, about everything. Like even if I was looking at a stranger's social media profile, I would feel so completely inadequate, unsuccessful, poor, ugly in comparison that I had to delete the app and come back down to earth. Does that sound healthy to you?

On December 31st, I found wrote this on a piece of paper: "2018: The Year of Paying Attention." Then I wrote about what I felt like the Spirit had been nudging me to do for a long time, but I had been ignoring: start paying attention.

And here's what's happened since I wrote that note to myself and opened my eyes to what has always been in front of me:

1) I started going to therapy
2) I started reading actual books again
3) I started going on walks
4) I let myself feel, both good and bad. Still working on communicating those things, though.
5) I started writing more
6) I submitted poems I've been holding onto for over a year
7) I applied for a writing internship

Some of these things have been way out of my comfort zone. Anything I let go of had claw marks on it. Why is it that we, as humans, crave change so badly, and then when it finally gets to us, we want to run away screaming? Our comfort zones are just so comfy. But there's not really anything there, except for couches I guess.

And here is another thing I've learned! If you have fear of missing out on something, whether that be a sale, a vacation, a life-changing event, whatever....

what is meant for you will not pass you by.

So just think about that next time you're sitting in your bed late at night and scrolling through everyone else's highlights. And if you really want what they have, do somethin' about it.

my life begins and ends in cemeteries

You're like, obviously? Well, maybe not about that whole "beginning" thing.

Hear me out.

The first time my husband and I said the word "marriage" in our relationship, we were in a cemetery. Eating chips and salsa. It just made sense.

After a really bad breakup, I wandered to the local cemetery one night and read the headstones and somehow felt okay. I was still kind of falling apart, but I was connected to something. Someone. They may be dead, but I can always tell they're there, making sure nobody steals the Memorial Day flowers off their graves (that's what my resident ghost duties are going to be, I think). And just like that scene in Dead Poets Society, they were whispering to me...carpe diem. Or more likely (and less romantically), they were saying get your life together. This boy is no good for you. Run far away. Which is basically the same thing.

I've had really honest conversations in cemeteries, with myself and with others (living people). I think I've figured it out. A cemetery is a kind of bridge between death and resurrection. So it would make sense that old ideas I had about myself died there with a kind of clarity only reserved for spiritual moments. And I can almost always feel it, that fist bump of solidarity from beyond the wall (door?) separating us and them, and they're saying it's okay to let go and be reborn a little.

Just a little though. I can only take so much rebirth.

*wink emoji*

photos from Scotland, one of my favorite haunted places (cemeteries and old buildings everywhere!)

Dr. Google is Free and STupid

art by Hiller Goodspeed

I worry too much about healthcare billz (re: that headline I've seen a million times that says "Why Aren't Millennials _____ [insert very expensive life choice here]??).

So sometimes I put off going to the doctor...for...an unhealthy amount of time. In 2012, I had gallbladder attacks for a solid week until my mother forced me to go to the hospital where, when asked my pain scale from 1-10, I answered "12" with some drool running down my face.

NEAT NEAT NEAT

On Sunday night I noticed a weird dent on my forehead. And when I pushed down on it, there was definitely a groove. And when I released pressure, the skin bounced back. So of course I immediately checked myself in to the WebMd Waiting Room (also known as hell).

We know this. We know that the internet giving us medical advice provides the same amount of comfort that Hitler had in the Spring of 1945. We know, but we still click the search button.

I went to bed pretty sure I was dying. The next day I remembered I had smacked my head really hard on a shelf in our kitchen. Oh yeah.

I am not entirely convinced that the head-smacking was completely harmless. At work, I was typing the phrase "high impact" over and over, and it started to wear on my brain:

I might just leave it there.

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. 

I just tried to get up from the couch and I couldn't

we're related.

That thing I wrote as the title= the absolute pinnacle of vegetating.

Yeah, it's a word. I just looked it up on thesaurus dot com because I wanted a different word for what I've been doing, to make it sound better. But you know what, the internet gave me "vegetating," and gently patted my hand as if to say, "There is no better word for that. Sorry, bud."

Today I finished my last two papers, and so I think I'm going to go for a run. YES. I'M GOING TO GO OUTSIDE. My skin might incinerate before I get past the front lawn, but whatever. At least then I won't have to think about starting my thesis soon. Yeah, summer break doesn't mean that much when you in grad school. I wish I could stop talking about grad school on this blog. Us too, you're all thinking. Don't worry, I know. I know.

OTHER ITEMS OF BIDNEZ:

Houston wants papaya for his birthday. That's it. He said "If I ask everyone for papaya, I know I'll get a lot of it. And then...I'll have papaya."
Me: "......."

PAPAYA. Kaitlyn Bothwell, if you're reading this, you're making the same face I made when he told me this. The same fruit we had to tell Mexicans we were allergic to so they'd stop giving it to us for breakfast. Oh well. I'll get him papaya (whoops, don't tell him) (Houston pretend you didn't read this), because he doesn't block me when I send him texts like this:

My parents have a puppy two puppies. Look, see. What else do you come here for? I really can't say.

this is Pip. a picture of her sister is forthcoming. 

There's this scene in Eddie the Eagle when Christopher Walken walks in (no, stop with the DAD jokes, gosh) (yes I am talking to myself right now) to a locker room and it's just such a weird scene, but anyway, it's supposed to be serious, because he picks up Hugh Jackman's skiing book with ol' Chris Walken's face on it, and Chris Walken says, "Nice book you got there. Need me to sign it?" Meanwhile everybody in the locker room is just staring at what must be the Most Inappropriately Timed Autograph Signing Of All Time (in their towels). I think it's supposed to be a really poignant scene but it's not, and everybody in the movie theater probably wanted to assassinate me and Houston because we couldn't stop laughing. Disclaimer: I almost assassinated myself just now trying to spell "assassinate."

That feeling of trying to keep yourself from laughing which instead just makes you laugh more is just like the feeling you get when you're done with your first year of grad school. You're like "K, I'm gonna relax for a bit now, maybe take a nap or go inhale or maybe--MAYBE I will venture to the faraway land of Smith's." But pretty soon you trying to do other things just makes you wonder if you should, in fact, have this much free time on your hands, so you make a huge mistake. You check your email. And what should you find there but an email from a student, long after their final papers were due.

"Hi, so last night when I turned in my paper my internet must've cut out RIGHT when I turned in the paper, so can I turn it in now?" (twelve hours later).

Me:

Why did I check my email? I should've pretended that inboxes didn't exist. Idjit!

You silly girl. Inboxes won't stop existing until you're laying horizontal in your coffin. But probably not even then. Sigh. Shoot, is it laying or lying or laiding or ladling goshDANGIT I have been writing and grading for nine straight months please send help.

Just recently (five minutes ago, just so you know how credible I am) I was browsing the Pinterest when I saw this Steve Jobs quote again, which I'm sure many well-meaning hipsters have nailed to their walls by now:

and then I was like:

C'mon Steve. You're not fooling anyone.

That concludes today's meaningless blog post. Thanks for reading and also I am sorry. 

adulthood

new comics, yay

adulthood means:

trying to figure out your life but not in the way that people on Dancing With the Stars are trying to figure out their lives because wow

staying up way too late shopping for boring stuff on Amazon like foam rollers, shoelaces, and water bottles (this is what I have become)

debating whether or not you should actually take a nap under your desk at school or walk the fifteen minutes home so you can sleep in your bed but then that's fifteen minutes you could be sleeping! so in the end you walk home and spend the entire "naptime" in bed on your phone

eyerolling real hard through a 2.5 hour class because you disagree with everything but if the teacher calls on you you say something like "I liked his word choice, lol" lol lolo o lfdslfdslafjlasjf lakjfl;a a af

also, using "lol" ironically and then being unable to stop. woof.

actually keeping track of your shower cries. so far I have had three this year. shower crying: the new rage-dancing in the forest.

being too tired to go buy actual groceries but not too tired to drive the extra ten minutes to Chick-Fil-A for a twenty dollar meal (no joke, why Chick-Fil-A tryna rob me blind?! I JUST WANTED SOME CHICKEN. THIS IS AMERICA THE PLACE IS CRAWLING WITH CHICKENS. THEY'RE LIKE AMERICA'S VERSION OF THE SHEEP OF SCOTLAND).

actually making plans called "dinner and taxes." with other people.

wanting to confront someone who wronged you:



If you haven't gotten to this point of your life yet, hold on to your youth a little longer. And those cute, eye-bags-less faces of yours. I'm sure you don't even need a filter! Yet.

oh how the tables have stayed about the same

well if this isn't my life in a picture

I still have one paper left between me and certain freedom (longer naps). I mean, I've written it. I just have to revise it. And since it was 200% garbage when I wrote it, it's kind of like rewriting the whole thing. BUT HEY. Grad school is still good, great, fine...okay? I'M SORRY I'VE RUN OUT OF ORIGINAL JOKES FOR THE YEAR.

Things that have happened since my last English 1010 class adjourned on Friday (all I got was a "see ya later!" from one of my students. It was like when the ten lepers get healed and only one comes back to say thanks except definitely not at all the same):

• I found avocado on my light switch. avocado. on the light switch.
• I got three different texts from random people in my singles ward telling me they were gonna have PUPPIES at FHE tonight. OF COURSE THE MONDAY AFTER I LEAVE. why
• I re-subscribed to a free month of Netflix #mistake (the only reason I have like four email addresses, tbh).
• Speaking of acronyms, I decided "smh" should just mean "smell my hair" from now on.
• I took out a student loan (I don't want to talk about this anymore though). From here on out my tears are going to come out shaped like dollar signs.
• I dreamt I lived in the Pacific Northwest again. Then I woke up to snow. Sigh.
• I abused the internet and completely WebMD-d my blood results, it wasn't smart.
• person: "So are you like a grad student or a teacher or what?" me: "I'm definitely or what." 

So, in summary: I've done nothing.

You know what I really want for Christmas? A really good toothbrush. I'm an adult now. I need one that requires batteries/no extra hand movement (try'na stave off carpal tunnel for as long as I can).

Yes, I'm an adult. I just said "stave," so, in ur face.

here's a pic of me before I had permanent eye bags, enjoy

 #notthepacificnorthwestbutcloseenough

what's the deal with beets?

#ART

Here's something I don't understand:

-beets????

-people eat them????????????

They taste like dirt. I'm not kidding. Straight from the ground. Fresh from the womb...of the earth. Ew. Just think about it. I know that they are really healthy, but gosh, at what cost?! My mom eats them straight from the can. Since I am slowly morphing into her, I may someday do this. Sry to my future children. Vegetables from cans are a major gag-reflex-irritant to McKenzie. Now I'm speaking in third person. Another gag-reflex irritant!

Today was weird. A lot of embarrassing things happened which I probably won't forget, at least not for 6 months (minimum). Here we go.

I went to a luncheon with all of the Lit and Writing professors on campus. It's basically an opportunity to network and talk about poetry and literature and schmooze and eat cookies the size of ur face. I sat next to my mentor without realizing that's who I was sitting by. He emailed me about a month ago to ask if I needed help with anything, but because I get about 100 emails a day and I couldn't think of anything I needed help with at the time (besides not sleeping, lolz), I didn't respond. WhiCH is uncharacteristic of me, but alas, it happened. So I sit by this guy at lunch today and he was like "Well I've met everybody here except for McKenzie. But I'm her mentor..." whomp whomp. SO EMBARRASSING. Cuz then all the other professors were like "Well, well, some mentor YOU are" and he was like "Well I did email her" and I was like "uhhhh yes, he really did, I swear, and I'm gonna email you back!" It's like when you don't text someone back for a really long time and by the time you've formulated a response it's just a moot point. haha MOOT. Whatta weird word.

So now they probably all think I am under qualified for this biznat. But joke's on them because I ALREADY THINK THAT about myself every day. Smiley face emoji.

Woof. Sentence fragments all up in this blog post. Do not tell my students, because I'm harping on them for this very problem in their essays. 

Speaking of this blog + my students. I used an excerpt from ye olde blog in class today and had the students analyze what worked/what didn't about it. I didn't tell them who wrote it or the name of the blog or anything. Anyhow, my first class thought it was hilarious. So I was like "Yeah, it was me! Haha! YOU GUYS THINK I'M FUNNY HAHA I TRICKED YOU INTO LIKING ME!" Well. Then my second class said "It was kind of weird...we didn't get it." So they didn't get to see Spiderman take off his mask. Losers. JK LOVE YOU GUYS. But wait why am I apologizing you'll never read this.

I work at the library once a week in this lil' writing club called the Cache Valley Community Writing Center (holy mouthful of mouthfuls). We just give little presentations to whoever shows up about whatever writing topic suits our fancy, and then they workshop with us for an hour and we help them write stuff. It's like a writing club, but for da city. Tonight a girl came in wanting writing a petition. And I was like, just sitting there staring at the back of this book I had checked out to kill time (there was a lull and nobody to tutor), and one of the tutors started giving me the hairy eyeball, like her eyeball was about to fall out of her face I was sure of it, and I just kind of looked at her like "u ok?" and then RIGHT when I thought her eyeball was for sURE about to loosen itself from her socket, I went, "OH. Oh you want ME to help her write this petition. Ok." It was the most awkward 3 minute silence of my life. I'm sure the poor girl coming for help was thinking "You guys ARE English majors, right? Also do you need some eye drops?" Yeah probably. Wait no I don't. I cry plenty, thanks. 

Other dumb updates but you're reading this post so obviously you care: it has been 14 days since a strange man has catcalled me, today was the first day it was cold all semester and so obviously I chose to wear a skirt (on a no-shave day, no less!), there's a 95% chance I'm going to Thailand this summer, whoops, whatever tan I had in the summer has vaporized right along with my desire to grade 40 papers. 

this is what 1000% done looks like

and this.

Blogger has lots its marbles and it won't let me line up the pics side by side so you're just gonna have to deal with the fact that this blog is hereby no longer AESTHETICALLY PLEASING. dangit. 

manswers: just chill. it's NOT a metaphor, ok?

Maybe everything isn't as deep as you think it is.

Maybe you're overanalyzing something that you really just shouldn't. Just cut that out, ok?

Maybe Augustus Waters wasn't exactly right (he was also fictional). The cigarette isn't a metaphor. It's just a cigarette. You know?

Look, sometimes we gotta take a step back from scrutinizing every little detail of our lives. I'm the first person that will tell you to try and find the meaning of things. It's my thing. I'm "English-y." Is there a better way to describe that? Anyway.

Overanalyzing things gets me into trouble sometimes. It's okay to say to ourselves, "You know what, maybe I just had a bad day because my life needs some balance. Not because I did something wrong and I'm being punished." Or "So-and-so didn't text me back because they didn't want to. They didn't have time. They forgot." Not "They hate me and they never wanna speak to me again." Like, sometimes, yes, stuff means something, but sometimes it doesn't!

Can I use this as my master's thesis? I think it's pretty bangin' so far. Such wise. Very coherence.

~*bye~*

this post was sponsored by Trent, who doesn't like when I say "it's a metaphor" after I spill food on myself/get lost on the way to my own house/drop my phone on my face/do basically anything. You're right, you left-brained weirdo. YOU'RE RIGHT! EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE LEFT-BRAINED. GET IT?! IT'S A METAPHOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this post is fueled by my grilled cheeses

this is how it is to be a girl

Yes, I meant for "grilled cheeses" to be plural.

I just now overheard two kids at my workplace singing "London Bridge is Falling Down," but they definitely replaced the words "London Bridge" with "Jesus." ????????????????

I have a feeling that Guy Fieri would be proud of this post so far, and that is not a good thing.

People keep asking me how I feel about the fact that I'm going to be a college professor in 2.5 weeks and I'm like "Fine." "Doesn't bother me." "Wait, should I be worried?" *shoulder shrug*

But on the inside, this is how it really is:

WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS?! LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL H? 
I'm supposed to check my classroom to see if my computer will work in there and oh gosh I don't think technology will agree with me should I just tell my students sorry no Powerpoints for the entire year and I'll just use one of those overhead projectors they will ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT ??!?!??

??!?!?????!????????????? <--lots of this emotion, which I can't express vocally, but if I could it would sound like a pterodactyl getting hit by a bus

I should bring a garden hose to keep  myself my students awake because class is at 7:30 AM and now I know for sure that this whole thing was not my idea at all (looking up at the sky, for effect).

If all else fails at least I will keep a chocolate stash in my drawer for ME AND ONLY ME! 

I really hope we don't have to read Moby Dick.

It's clearly going well.

I have to pack every single item I possess in the next less-than-48 hours. If you have arms I need your help. Not what you think--I just need you to hug me and therefore keep my arms pinned down and therefore help me procrastinate because PACKING BLOWS.

So does moving, but I'm not gonna think about that yet. I like to procrastinate feeling emotions, too. #adult

my eyes have been bloodshot for 3 days now, am I a vampire? + a (few) grammar lesson(s)

I call this the "Fleetwood Mac" filter, only bc I was listening to them while I edited the pics 

nO. Not a vampire. Just being compressed in the garbage compressor of ~*STrEss~*. Tip! If you put asterisks and wavy lines around the word "stress," it does absolutely NOTHING to alleviate that aforementioned stress! Just so you guys know! I am using way too many exclamation points! That's an English no-no! The other day I was texting a guy and I tried to correct his English but then I realized it was proper English after I'd corrected him! It! Was! Embarrassing!

Ok, from now on, I'm not going to use exclamation points. I'm so excited. Yes. Do you feel the excitement in here. It's just huge.

Hey, did you know there are people out there who don't pronounce the "h" in "huge"???? DID YOU! Oops. I mean, did you. They say "youuuuu-ge" instead, and it drives me bananas. I'm like "hey, there is definitely an 'h' at the beginning of that word and it's not silent." I get weird about words because I feel like they're...close to me? Or something? Yeah I'm not good with words at this precise moment in time but that's because #bloodshoteyes. I'm having an allergic reaction to everything in my life collapsing in on itself, probably.

Another tip: don't put "probably" at the end of your sentences because nobody will take you seriously. It's been my struggle these past 25 years, so now if I ever say to someone "Hey I like you!" They're like "Um? Sarcasm much?" And I'm like "??? What did I say???" Another tip: don't overuse question marks. People will think that you excessively question everything and THEN they'll label you as "nihilist" or "postmodernist" or "mega-nerd." Unfortunately, because most people don't know what the first two words mean, they say the third one. BUT THEY ALL MEAN THE SAME THING BASICALLY.

Also, don't say "basically" too much because people will think you're trying to dumb down everything you say (because you are), and they will label you as "pretentious." OR they'll flip it the other way and say "why are you so unsure of yourself? Just say something IS or IS NOT, but don't say describe it as "basically" because that MAKES * U * BASIC*." Don't put asterisks around stuff. As far as cussing goes, all I have to say is this: the proper response to finding SIX old burritos in the back of your friends' truck IS to say "what the he**?" Just so you know.

One more thing: USE ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME AS MUCH AS YOU WANT BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING PASSIONATE ABOUT SOMETHING AND YELLING IT PASSIVE AGGRESSIVELY THROUGH TEXT SO HERE GOES NOTHING!!!!! (exclamation point rule has been disbanded temporarily for this portion of the show)

DON'T STAY UP PAST 1AM NO MATTER HOW STRESSED YOU ARE BECAUSE YOU'LL REGRET IT IN ABOUT 5 HOURS

DON'T DO HEADSTANDS ON HARD FLOORS IN ROOMS WITH CHEMICALS IN THEM YOU WILL REGRET IT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY (BUT THEN YOU'LL DO IT AGAIN 50 MORE TIMES)

DON'T DRIVE OLD CARS WITHOUT A/C AROUND IN CIRCLES THEY WILL GET TIRED AND START SMOKING

DON'T*GIVE*OUT*YOUR*NUMBER*TO*PEOPLE*WHO*DON'T*DESERVE*IT*

OKAYYYYY!???!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!

Basically, I just broke every grammar rule I told you to follow while I was telling you to follow it. What's that called?

Being a smart-aleck...?

Yeah.

current mood^^

joke's on you, guy who stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time today! I haven't shaved my legs for a week!

never shall I be a fashion blogger, amen.

if you stare at this for too long...don't. just don't do that.

File that one under Things I Should Have Said Out Loud to a Stranger But Did Not. Wait, but that will take an entire filing cabinet, and filing cabinets are ugly. I guess I can't file it anywhere in this hypothetical scenario because of aesthetic. TYPICAL MCKENZIE.

Ew, my computer just tried to autocorrect my name to "Mackenzie!" What the! Also, Spotify has started making everyone their own playlists (called "Discover Weekly"), and last week's was amazing but the song I just listened to from today's has a very crazy saxaphone solo in the middle of a...I can't tell if it's a country song or pop. HALP. I didn't ask for thiiiisss!

While I was driving home in the rain today (and listening to "Plans" because I just rediscovered that album in Moab this last weekend, thank you Ari, thank you from the bottom of my soul) I started to compose a list in my head of things I have to do before I leave in 3 weeks (count 'em, THREE, that's LESS THAN A MONTH, WHAT).

Holy cow WHY IS SHAMPOO SO EXPENSIVE?! This is what happens when I blog and get on Amazon at the same time. And I'm not editing out any side thoughts, humans. That's just the way the cookie crumbles today. While I'm going off on a tangent, you should watch this if you haven't yet because I definitely thought it was fake when I first saw it. As my friend Kurt described it "Somehow this video proves there is a God..." *disclaimer: not a Mormon message*

Ok, now that my tangent is over, list time, baby! Then we can finally wrap up the most incoherent and nonsensical blog post ever written. And thus it is, amen. Aw frap I just remembered I have a peanut butter cup in my purse....might have to take a detour and eat it.

things McKenzie must do before she leaves to go back to skool again and will surely be drowning in enough paper to save the rainforest, and will therefore not be blogging very much really probably:

1) how would paper save the rainforest though, unless you could reverse-produce it...? OK FOR REALLY I'M GONNA WRITE THIS.
2) go to Payson Temple & Provo Temple (come with me, all ye who can, sorry I just said that in a scriptural tone of voice)
3) go up the canyon/into the mountains/pretty much ev-e-ry dang day
4) go to a baseball game (random, but I haven't gone all summer and I feel weird about it)
5) eat some Graham Canyon ice cream (a lot of it)
6) hammock hammock hamoooooockkkkkk
7) sit around a fire so I can walk away smelling like campfire (I like it, so what who cares)
8) unfollow every single person on Facebook who posts anything about the upcoming election
9) jk
10) NOT JK
11) write a syllabus (hahahahahahah so weird that I even typed that, let alone that I'm doing it)
12) delete snapchat again
13) probably not though
14) watch The Buttercream Gang (I'm dead serious)
15) I'M NOT KIDDING I LOVE THAT MOVIE
16) stop writing this list
17) just
18) *~stop*~
19) also, stop giving out my number to boys who don't even deserve it
20) eggplant emoji

normal work emailz

if ur reading this, congrats! you can read! you are literate!

Hey guys, been awhile. I'm "watching" Revenge of the Sith (blargh) because I'm a true fan and I have to participate in Star Wars week as part of my membership in the "True Fan" club. Or something...

The last three are way better. Er..first three. Gosh dangit George! Why did you do this to us?! This is completely pointless so far.

My thought process throughout this day (yes I wrote down my thoughts as they came, aren't u lucky):

My freckles came back! Oh but wait is that a mole? Hmm maybe it's a beauty mark. Yeah, a beauty mark. 
Why did I go grocery shopping late at night...
All I wanted was to avoid seeing people I knew and to get my Cheddar Bunnies.
What the! There's no Cheddar Bunnies?!?? Oh shoot..that boy looks familiar
Yes he...he did a double take when he saw me too. His snapback hat is obscuring his peripheral vision though so maybe he just has a weird tic that makes him look like he's looking sideways but he's not so maybe he didn't see me
Excuse me while I pretend to need this pastry flour...
Oh but I COULD make muffins!
Oh now he's looking at me...better back away slowly...we only went to Mexico together and I don't think he remembers what I look like since I wore one outfit the entire time and it wasn't the one I'm wearing now.

*later*
If you like someone (me) u should probably tell them (me)
Hmmm I need to start planning for my camping trip next weekend.
This is the summer of lots of trips and being mostly poor so I'm actually thinking about entering those sweepstakes on the backs of cereal boxes.
Update: the sweepstakes on the back of Peanut Butter Crunch box is not worth it. I will not glue a cardboard mustache to my face and post it on social media.
Wait...people already do that when they aren't entering sweepstakes....
Oh but I AM excited for the farmer's market and mint lemonade and for the day I live within biking distance of one.
Bc then I won't have to drive there and get hit on via my car. Or hit by another car. Or hit a pedestrian with my car (all three of these things have happened).

Pause in my thoughts for a moment to tell you guys about my car. It is quite old (circa 1985), it's brown, and it looks sort of like a DeLorean. Spelling anyone??? Ever since I inherited it in 2012, it has earned many a hairy eyeball from the likes of creepy men everywhere. It also bears a scar on its left side because of a certain incident (#jerrywayne), but it still attracts attention, which makes me slightly uncomf because I know nothing about old cars really and so I feel kind of embarrassed to be driving one that's so classy. It's like a 15 year-old who knows nothing about the Beatles somehow getting ahold of an original record. And they're like "Hey! The Beatles! That's a band from Forever 21, right?"

You know?

have you ever not known your pic was being taken?

yeah whatever I mean my phone is like my own personal paparazzi

and I have a tumor in my mouth

I have had peanut butter cups in my possession for 7 DAYS

a note to you from me. whoever is reading this.

yeah, you. 

You guys, we need to be nicer humans. Me and you and all of everyone. Not just to others (and we should be that too). I mean, like, to ourselves. To our "chothers" (pronounced CHUHH-thurz), as my Spanish professor would say. If you had a friend that talked to you like you talk to yourself, would you be friends with that person? OMG I hated that sentence. Agh! See?! Being a jerk to myself again. *I will not criticize my own grammar or others', amen* *unless they ask me to, please bless that they ask me to*

And now, in the spirit of being a generally pleasant human, here is a list of things I think we should give people awards for but we don't (you probably fit the description of many of these, so go have a peanut butter cup to celebrate! C'MON DO IT! IT'S MY BLOG AND I'M TELLING YOU THAT YOU HAVE TO DO IT).

CongRATZ! FOrrrr:

• having peanut butter cups for longer than 2 days and not eating them
• being able to turn pages in books without licking your fingers 
• not saying "bless you" each and every time after someone sneezes
• using your turn signal
• wearing sunblock
• wearing a helmet if you're riding a motorcycle, especially on the freeway b/c SRSLY don't mess with gravity
• looking like Chris Pine (haven't met anybody who gets this award yet, except for Chris Pine. Wait I haven't met him.)
• being able to dip a chip without it breaking into the dip
• not crying when someone yells at you
• crying but doing the thing anyway (has been mentioned before but it's iMPORTANT)
• not getting the mascara crease on your eyelid 
• not leaving the house with conditioner stuck in your ear
• resisting the urge to fist-bump, unless you're try'na be ironic. Jk. Not jk.
• being good at making quesadillas
• being good at making scrambled eggs
• being good at making pizza
• being good at making all of McKenzie's favorite foods
• knowing how to sight-read music
• being willing to say opening/closing prayers in church
• being nice to babies/children even if they are screaming 
• BEING GOOD AT BACK RUBS/FOOT RUBS/BACK POPPING
• knowing how/when to use the right emoji
• recycling 
• ^^that's not even a joKE, by the way
• being able to cuddle a cat w/out it scratching your face
• being able to get a car wash and not having a bird destroy your car the next day (I do not possess this talent, tragically)
• being able to shave your legs without missing a spot on your kneecaps every time
• not being a klutzbomb all the time. but if you are one, that's ok too. Regular Bombs and Klutzbombs are welcome on my blog. 
• NOT LIKE REAL LIFE BOMBS THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT.
• being able to listen to Simon & Garfunkel without crying
• not being one of those people who photoshops Nicolas Cage's face onto muffins or lizards or pregnant women or Disney princesses OR ANYTHING REALLY NOT ANYTHING

my mom would will be proud of this one.

not today, satan. not today.

the reverse camera was on and I didn't know, this was not even a POSED reverse reaction #sundaynapface

(you know those are a thing now, right? Oy)

Have you ever gotten set up on a blind date

And then all you have to go on is this person's name

So the name is stuck in your cranium for a little while

And then,

Have you ever dreamt about this person??

Or maybe dreamt that you owned a HOT DOG STAND NAMED AFTER THEM?!?

A HOT DOG STAND.

That happened.

I am currently on the verge of tears because the.girl.who.bought.my.contract.backed.out.at.the.last.second.i.am.cry.

But really, it's gonna be okay. IT IS. IT IS. I might not believe that right now but if I keep saying it screaming it into my pillow, it will become truth.

Provo, you dirty pirate. I have said "GOOSE FEATHERS!" in all caps more times than I care to count in the past week. And I mean in text. Like I would say "GOOSE FEATHERS" out loud! Psh. But really, Provo. PROVOOOOOOO. Moving here was a fluke. Then it was horrible, then it was awesome, then it was kind of like "Wait, what? I do like Provo?" Then it was like "Oh, I guess it's time to move now...right when I'm starting to like it here."

Duh. Life. Life deals hard and fast and it's just...hard to keep up sometimes. Which is why I was eating that chocolate-covered macaroon at 9:30 in the morning.

Not today, Satan.

Not today.

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.