even Nephi cried himself to sleep sometimes

this is also how I react when people ask me about things I don't wanna deal with

Regarding the title, I promise it's true. 2 Nephi 33:3, look it up. Not sacrilegious.

The point of this post is just to give you a little push. A boost (not like the kind they give you at Jamba Juice--you know, those pointless "vitamin" boosts that don't do anything except empty ur wallet). This year has been tough for me. A lot of things didn't go the way I wanted them to. I'm still learning faith and patience. I'll probably still say that 50 years from now. But really. Life isn't really easy. Even those people you probably follow on Instagram who have a seemingly perfect life...they probably don't. Filters, man. They cover up stuff.

ANYhow. This is just to remind you that you can do it. If you're discouraged about something or a lot of things, you need to let go of them right now. It's hard--it's so hard for me--to do that. To give my problems to Heavenly Father and say "Here, I have done everything I can with this and I can't do anymore. Please help." I'm bad at asking for help. Heavenly Father wants us to ask for help. Not for him, though. For us! C.S. Lewis said, "I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time--waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God--it changes me." It changes me. And man, if anybody needs changing it's me. 

It's all of us. 

Yesterday our home ward got a new bishop, and he talked about how interesting it was that God had "softened" his rough edges over the years, preparing him for this calling. He said we all start out kind of rough and jagged. But our experiences + the Savior soften us up. He molds us perfectly, even though it hurts. Dangit, it hurts. 

Now if He could just make my Spotify Discover Weekly really good, life would be golden.

Now that's sacrilege! 

I smish I may, I smish I might

This was my ornament circa 1995. FROSTY THE SNOWMAN IN A SWING. Was I the envy of every kid on the block? No.

In approximately one week and 11-ish hours, I will have yet another birthday. And it will be 2016. Yuck!

To celebrate, I have conjured up some alternate names for "The Year 2015." Y'all ready for this?! (*Space Jam song should be playing somewhere nearby, at least that's what I rigged this post to do for all of you)

The Year McKenzie Cried Every Time She Saw a Baby Animal And/Or Looked At Her Bank Account.

visual aid 1: when I see a comma in my bank account 

The Year McKenzie Lost Her Water Bottle On the Tracks of the London Underground & That Was the #1 Story She Told Everyone About Europe. A Frapping Water Bottle.

The Year McKenzie Dumped Salt On Everything, Even Pizza. Hey, Do You Guys Hear That? That Silence? It's the Sound of My Heart Stopping. 

The Year McKenzie Learned to Do a Headstand On One of the Most Horrible Days On Record, and Then Followed That One Headstand With Fifty, And Then Got a Migraine, Punctuating That Most Horrible Day With A Migraine, Great. 

The Year McKenzie Learned The Difference Between Heartburn and Bubble Guts, JK She Already Knew This, She Just (Accidentally) Tested It By Ingesting Way Too Much Orange Juice.

The Year At Least Five Strangers Told McKenzie Her Calf Muscles Were *Quote  "Nice" *Close Quote*

And now, for the 2015 Stats Report, since you all obviously care (you're still reading this, aren't you?)

• Number of times puked: four
• Number of times puked while 20,000 feet up in the air: four (what do you know!)
• Number of hoodies purchased: not telling
• Number of cats I hugged but received no love in return: wait I don't want to talk about this
• Number of new friends made via the internet/horrible hikes: like FIFTY and I love you all, MUAH!
• Number of times I made fun of Nicolas Cage: probably 12 million. And then someone would send me one of THESE almost immediately (they haunt me and it's karma and I know it): 

visual aid 2: someone has to stop this. right now. stop right now.

• Number of times re-downloaded/then deleted/then downloaded Tinder again while Hello Darkness, My Old Friend played in the background: three (but never again, plz)
• Number of chocolate chips consumed: probably a wagonload

IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE, NERDS! This morning I was throwing away a bunch of empty garbage bags and Ellie snatched them from my hand and said "No! We could use these to play Baby Jesus in our nativity!" Bags? A pile of garbage bags????

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 a husband good for anyway?

Never fear. I, husbandless girl that I am, will tell you:

• holding your groceries so you can go to the bathroom because guess what you can't take your "merchandise" into the bathroom with you at Wal-Mart (lol @ Wal-Mart for thinking I would call anything I bought from there "merchandise")
• back-scratches in hard-to-reach places
• telling you when you need to use hyphens and don't need them (I never need them but that doesn't stop me from abusing them)
• making you good playlists when you run out of good music and Discover Weekly is the wurst
• watching every episode of Parks & Rec, The Office, and 24 with you (for the hundred-billionth time, whatever, it's not a big deal, I'm getting help)
• bringing you chips and salsa when you forget to eat because you've been writing a paper for four hours wait it's morning now jk bring me toast
• telling you if there's something in your teeth (THIS IS SERIOUS)
• telling you if your zipper is down
• telling you if you need gum or a mint
• giving you said gum or mint
• giving you faces like these when you're being straight up ridiculous:

• understanding your sense of humor/inside jokes
• giving you rides home from campus so you don't have to walk home alone in the rain and in the dark like I did tonight whoops sorry mom I had no choice
• honestly rating your Instagram captions/overall social media presence (on a scale from 1-10)
• giving you foot rubs and then gently telling you when it's time to shave your toes 
• bringing you toilet paper when you run out on the pot
• being your excuse to leave a party early 
• helping you not to eat an entire tub of popcorn before the movie starts (we'd split it 50/50)
• (okay more like 70/30)
• (80/20)

This doesn't mean anything except that I'm heavily procrastinating writing a paper and the other day I was in Wal-Mart with the fullest bladder and nobody to hold my groceries. Hence this list came to fruition goodbye.

embarrassing things I did in my youth that still haunt me at night

I am screaming in my flesh trash.

THIS IS HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU SHOW SOMEONE SOMETHING YOU THINK IS FUNNY AND THEY DONT LAUGH.

being the center of attention is a nightmare.

This comic is me, my entire life, in just a few frames. I love it so much.

I was in the midst of grading papers this afternoon when I remembered something really gross I had once done (when I was--gulp--19). This happens a lot. Something I've tried to repress always comes back to wag its proverbial finger at me and say "HAHA, remember when you were pubescent?!" YES. I REMEMBER. YOU DON'T HAVE TO KEEP BRINGING IT UP, CEREBRUM. LET IT GO.

Maybe if I write these down and let everyone read them, the hauntings will stop. But I really doubt it.

Story #1: 
When I was 19, me and my two breast friends (I am not correcting that because of the context of the story) formed a "Hammocking Club." This means that we walked to a house on 100W in Rexburg which had a hammock hanging in the front yard and used it. All three of us. In a hammock made for one person. One person hammock. Three people. Not a good idea.

One of my old roommates' exes lived there, and he hated us using it. So we continued to do so, duh.

Every night, people (men) would walk past (since it was right by the sidewalk) and we would rate them. We'd do it when they were ten feet away, but still. So embarrassing. And we would even ask them to give us a little push sometimes. Is it any wonder none of us got any dates?

One night we decided to just start yelling things out like we had Tourette's, just to get a reaction. Wanna know what the worst thing we said was? "LACTATE!" I need to go lie down for a few minutes so I can recover from this one.

At the end of that semester, me and Chelsea snuck to this front yard in the middle of the night (ok, it was like 9 o'clock) and snipped a piece of the hammock off for our time capsule. Yikes.

Story #2:
I went through a phase in my 8th year of life fondly known as "Pinch Everybody's Buttocks Phase." PEBP. I don't know, I have to make everything an acronym. It got the point where I would stand in the hallway at church as Relief Society was letting out and just pinch people's bottoms, one after the other. In the confusion, nobody could see who it was (it helped that I was shorter than everyone). Not only was this unsanitary, but it gave me a bad rep. And my mom put a stop to it when I pinched an unsuspecting butt a little too hard. Hers. Rookie mistake, smh.

Story #3
It was Day-Before-Easter-Saturday. I was running around the front yard, high on candy and life, probably swinging from Grandma's trees like a tweaked version of Tarzan. Just imagine a five year old in Minnie Mouse overalls and long braids, missing her front teeth, screaming. My nickname was The Screamin Demon, ok.

I still don't know how this story took the turn that it did. It makes no sense in my mind's eye (which I am wishing I could poke out). But I had to go the bathroom (Weak Bladders ((Not-So)) Anonymous), so I unsnapped those overalls and peed on the neighbor's FENCE. HOW DID I EVEN DO THIS. Anatomically it should be impossible, but I know that the wood stain was a little bit darker after I was done with it, so..??????? Anyway, in the midst of this micturating, my mom came around the corner and saw me. I hurried and snapped up that Minnie Mouse denim and ran into the house, thinking quickly.

I knew my mom would take away my Easter candy as punishment, so what did I do? Well duh! I barricaded my door with my play furniture and started to eat it all. She walked in on me as my mouth was drooling with taffy and Snickers bars. I mean, ew. I didn't even get to enjoy it. All this while my overalls were covered in urine. I deserve at least one demon child for this incident alone. I really do.

I'd just like to say from the bottom of my heart: yikes

I was going to do a movie review of Hambre Games Part II but I just don't have it in me. Sry Gordy. But here's a quick summary for those of you who haven't seen it/read the book (*spoiler alert* *eyeroll*):

• Katniss has a gnarly bruise on her neck and can't talk.
• Peeta has PTSD and his hair has gotten even more ugly (pretty sure they could've remedied this since Katniss always looks bangin' even though she's in a war torn post-apocalyptic country half the time).
• Really though, why the frosted tips? Peeta deserves better.
• Kyrie is litrally cutting off my circulation with her arm right now OUCH (not now, like, while we were watching the movie)
• Now she's cussing in my ear
• Do u think the people behind us will get mad or
• Alright now Katniss has her eyelash extensions on, she's ready to fight I guess (lolz)
• They invited Peeta on this assassination mission because he has PTSD so that makes sense
• Explosion
• Explosion
• A giant flood of liquid eyeliner
• Whoops it's oil
• Same difference
• Explosion
• Explosion
• President Snow: 

Flash forward: Peeta's got a terrible wig on and that's apparently the thing that makes him look "older" but really he looks the same (STILL WITH FROSTED TIPS I MEAN COME ON THIS ISN'T AN N*SYNC ALBUM COVER). Katniss doesn't look older but she's lost the eyelash extensions and she's talking to a really beautiful baby. It's probably not Peeta's tbh. Whoops.

What was this blog post even about in the first place? I guess nothing. I guess that's all. I saw Hunger Games II and I had three (THREE) Twix Bars in my purse which I forgot about the entire time and am just now remembering. Why do I have candy-bar amnesia? Is there a cure?

I shouldn't post this.

*posts anyway*

you might be in grad school if

1. You start insulting people by calling them "absolute pancakes." This isn't for lack of creativity, but merely brain power. I used up all my brain sauce for the semester coming up with lesson plans that would entertain some 18-year-olds. OKAY BUT IF ONE MORE PERSON SAYS "DON'T TELL ME SPOILERSSSS!" FOR THE LAST HUNGER GAMES MOVIE I WILL BLOW A GASKET. THE BOOK CAME FIRST, YOU ABSOLUTE PANCAKES. THERE'S NO WAY THERE CAN BE SPOILERS. READ THE BOOK.
2. You get unnecessarily angry at stupid things that have no effect on you whatsoever (see number 1).
3. You think an ice cream sandwich for lunch sounds fancy and almost like having a real meal.
4. You wear beanies or hoodies every day to cover up your crazy bedhead and then before you know it people are asking you if you have hair at all.
5. You start crying when you: a) see any baby animal, I mean any baby animal, b) have nightmares about grading papers and the stack never getting smaller c) step in a puddle of maple syrup that got spilled on the kitchen floor and nobody is cleaning it up anytime soon
6. You get excited about buying things like socks and chocolate milk. Actually, this was me before grad school too. And it will be me after grad school.
7. You listen to way too much Manchester Orchestra/Taking Back Sunday, which just makes you feel like an angsty 17-year-old version of yourself. And then you make an actual emo playlist on Spotify, just solidifying how distant you've become from love and affection. I dunno what it is about the cold weather, but I think it makes me real mad. Or it could be school. Jury's still out. 
8. You laugh at people who actually have time to zip up their pants/hoodies, wash their sheets, and paint their nails. Sometimes I'll just marvel at someone taking the time to zip up their hoodie. What's it like to have that much time? I don't know.
9. You check ratemyprofessor.com to see if anyone has given you a chili pepper yet. STILL NO CHILI PEPPERS. Actually, a profile for me hasn't even been set up yet. Which I'm sort of relieved about. But what does one have to do to get a dang chili pepper? *probably stop wearing beanies*
10. Your butt gets smaller, not from doing squats, but from getting compressed in a chair for too long. :'( COMPRESSED BUTT SYNDROME, OR CBS AS I LIKE TO CALL IT, DANGIT THAT'S A TV STATION NEVERMIND