deleting your instagram is the new black

when your anxiety outlasts the nail polish on your toes

So, I deleted Instagram last week or the week before. I can't remember exactly when it was. Maybe that's because I was relying too much on Instagram/social media to mark the time (and pass it). 

When you have a baby, a lot of things change about your life. A lot of this change is expected, like never sleeping normally again, or crying a lot at certain movies (I hate u, Goofy Movie), and ESPECIALLY (most importantly) going through more laundry than you thought possible. You know those huge gallons of laundry detergent you can buy at Costco? We had one of those when we were first married—it was actually a wedding gift, ha. It took us all of 2 years to finish it off.

Well, we bought another one right before Matilda was born and it's nearly gone. No, you didn't come here to read about the amount of puke I deal with now (wait...maybe you did? If you did, sorry, I think you have the wrong blog). The point is, I was expecting most of the change that's come with Matilda. And she's worth it all. But some of the change...a certain....virus....well, that was unexpected. 

I used to write a lot. I used to give myself time for other things, but with the baby and quarantine, every day kind of dissolves into the next. And it's summer in Arizona, which is basically just "stay inside for 6 months you sweaty pug." (I wish I identified as a better-looking dog, like a Golden Retriever, but no...I think I am 100% a pug).

Please bless I never talk about coronavirus again because I'm just sick of reading about it, talking about it, thinking about it, having nightmares about it, etc. Next thing you know, Swig is going to name a drink after it (wait, that would be bad marketing, and also....the beer? C'mon McKenzie).

So anyway, Instagram was the best way to escape these feelings of...being trapped. Whoops, got a little too real right there, but it's ironic, right? So instead of reading scriptures every night I would scroll, scroll, scroll. I don't want to know how many miles I have scrolled through Instagram but it sure isn't equal to the amount I've walked in the past few months (my dead FitBit just rolled in its grave). 

I've always been an anxious person, but in the last 5 years, it really began to flare up. I don't deal with change very well, and if I'm not doing what I should do to keep the crazy anxiety thoughts from spiraling down the McKenzie Brain Drain, it starts to manifest. In lots of scrolling. Lots of scrolling and feeling sorry for myself because...my inner dialogue be like:

• Why don't you have a house?

• Why haven't you paid off your student loans already?

• Why are you using your Master's degree to write about freaking mattresses? (this one depresses me the most)

• Wow they already have 5 kids at your age, you just have 1! (this one...particularly dumb, but I know I'm not the only one who has thought having children is some kind of race) (LET ME TELL YOU THERE IS NOTHING FAST ABOUT THOSE 9 MONTHS)

• Why don't you read your scriptures more?

• Why don't you exercise? You need to lose weight.

• Why don't you cook more? 

• Why do you still have adult acne? *cue the tears of irony*

And on and on! Exhausting. Not to mention, boring. 

No, really. Nobody talks about how boring anxiety is. It gets your heart pumping and you can't breathe, much like feelings you'd get on a roller coaster or somewhere actually fun, like a theme park, but no. It's boring as hell. You're just sitting around (or my preferred position for an anxiety attack, flat on my back in bed with a pillow to muffle my crying so Houston can't hear me). 

And instead of these really awful things happening to you, which would be awful, but also, would be SOMETHING HAPPENING, you're just imagining it all! That's right! It's all in your head. But logic doesn't work, either. See, I'm writing all this down and it sounds stupid, but that won't stop my brain from making me feel lame.

So, conclusion. Instagram made everything worse. I know there's plenty of studies showing the correlation between mental health and social media, and it's still inconclusive, but this is my experience. Instagram just made me feel like a speck of dirt. 

Instead, I'm just gonna blog again because that's fun. And it's not an echo chamber (well, it is, but it's just MY voice, so that's fine) (insert sunglasses emoji).

Now here's some pictures because mom always said never post a blog post without pictures!

(No, my mom didn't teach me that, because I came of age in the 90s, where the highest form of technology I used was a Tamagotchi)

I gave birth to... an extrovert?

her halo 😍😍 (Houston says emojis are for teenagers. I'll show him!)

here my designer eye bags are on fine display (and the reason they exist)

a bunch of things I have an opinion on which nobody should read into

that makes me l-e-g-i-t

(so does spelling words out for emphasis)

This post exists because I'm procrastinating writing up ALL of my lesson plans for the fall semester, which are due in 24 hours, L-O-L. The only thing Twitter did for me was make me start saying "lol" non-ironically. I say that like it's a good thing and it is not.

I worry about blogs.

Blogs are just...eh.

I think that some people (myself included) spend too much time reading about other people's lives and not enough time living their own. I think they analyze the details of someone's life down to what carpet is in their living room and what paint is on their walls and WHICH MASCARA THEY USE because heaven forbid they have their own opinions on things. You know?

Is this what we've become? People who try to live vicariously through others? No way, man. That's lame.

And now, as if to prove my own point, I am going to make a list of popular things I have an opinion on, which you shouldn't take into account that much because they're all silly things, really, and I wholeheartedly believe the saying that you should "take other people's opinions lightly--VERY lightly." Next time you see an FB status that gets your goat, take a deep breath and walk away because I bet you commenting/not commenting probably won't change that person's mind. After all...they're posting it on Facebook.

THINGS I DON'T GET (BUT ALSO DON'T H8 ON):

• Pokemon Go. If I was a person that played games at all, I'd probably play this. I think it's especially great for people who have a hard time leaving their house because of mental illness. Like REALLY. You're not cool for hating this. The other night me and Houst were walking up on campus and passed a crowd of Pokemoners (is that the right noun???) and he was trying to explain the game to me to the best of his ability but he, like, lowered his voice to a whisper and said "I don't wanna say anything wrong and get called out..." HAHA. What have we become.
• The Bachelorette. It's the worst. Show. But. It's entertaining and they know how to entertain, dangit. It's all a scam, I know. It's not a template for healthy relationships, I know. It's gross that she makes out with multiple guys at the same time, I knOW. But could people be writing these kinds of recaps from a show like Law & Order? No. As for me and my house, I just read the recaps because I don't have time to watch 3 hours of grape-crushing-v-neck-wearing-protein-bar-eating madness. 

THINGS I DON'T GET AND KIND OF H8 ON A LITTLE

• Most of what's happening in the election...I'm so tired of reading about this. I actually might hate on this a little. This=the constant coverage of everything ridiculous the Trumps are doing. Does anybody know about his policies or are we focusing on lit'rally everything else he says/does? GAH. 
• Anything to do with the Kardashians + Taylor Swift. NO. Please tell me we are not picking "sides" between celebrities because of a silly feud that has nothing to do with anything important. EEEEEEEE. 
• Bloggers tryn'a validate reasons why they aren't completely active...I think this is a very personal thing and you shouldn't really talk about it on yo blog. Keep it between you and whomever you worship. I think it's damaging to other people who might be struggling and you offering up your opinion on your "personal journey to freeing yourself from the church" is makin me crazy. I KNOW THIS SHOULDN'T BOTHER ME and I should turn the other cheek and I'm just gonna say it this one time and then never again.

THINGS I HAPPEN TO LIKE THAT SOME PEOPLE TRY TO USE  TO MAKE THEM SOUND COOLER/SMARTER

• going to concerts
• liking music that's not on the radio
• drinking Kombucha (HAHahHAHAHAHAHA)
• pronouncing "kombucha" correctly
• reading the news

You aren't better than anybody because you do or don't participate in most of the things I just listed. That's the point!

Listen. I have an idea! Let us not worry so dang much about what other people like/don't like, unless it's some form of extremism or illegal activity and instead worry about things we could improve on. "We" meaning our own selves. I think the advent of social media has ruined some people's identities. And ya know who likes to make us forget about our identities? YEAH.

/end rant

(another thing to add to that list up there: ending things with a cool slashy thing and "end rant")

DON'T TAKE THIS POST TOO SERIOUSLY CUZ I SURE WON'T 

the proper way to fill holes

No I am not talking about grouting tile. No way in he*k am I gonna talk about that on this blog. Do I look like I know anything about home improvement? No. Just take out the "me" from "home" and boom, you'll get what this blog is about. ho improvement....

*silence*

Okay. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I wrote this last night when I was feeling very emo. So watch out. Grab yo kleenex or skip this one if you wanted to laugh. Srryyy I can't be funny alwayz.

***

Why do I fight against being broken open by hard things? Or against faith? Why don't I ask for things that are so clearly in my heart? Why don't I try courage and, like DO the things I know will make me a better person? And not just because God is asking these things of me but because He is all-knowing and He knows my future (all things are present to Him). So of course he's going to ask me to do things that are uncomfortable or weird or hard or don't make sense to me. Because I can't see the whole picture. I don't have that ability because I'm mortal. Whoops. So yeah. I should just trust Him and in Him. And stop dragging my feet. I need to stop dragging them. I can't get anywhere.

I am tired of waiting, and I think waiting is tired of me waiting for it too. I’m sitting by this subway line as it passes me by, and every time the doors open, I want to get on, I would like to leave this platform right now but I stay there, and wait for the next train, and so it goes.

I am tired of filling these holes with things that don’t stick. If I was a floor made of tiles, then I wouldn’t be grouted. Not even close. Because the things that I am using to try and fill up all the gaps, they aren’t working. Things including but not limited to:

• boys
• boys texting back
• boys giving me any attention at all
• music
• tv shows
• driving around late at night by myself and worrying about the future
• social media, likes, follows, reblogs, etc
• mirrors (literal and not-so-literal)

I don’t know what happened, but somewhere along the way, I forgot who I was. This isn’t a one-time thing. It’s recurring. It’s a recurring nightmare and it’s been (literally) keeping me up at night. I’m finally on sleeping pills because the Sunday night would come around, every seven days, that son of a gun, so dang reliable, when you pull the trigger out goes the bullet, and every time I would lie down to rest and then came the thoughts. Thoughts like you are not good enough to be here, you haven’t gotten caught up on a lot of homework assignments, you should be managing your time better, you spend a lot of your time alone these days, you’ll probably be alone for a long time, school is the most important thing in your life, why can’t you figure out how to date guys? why don’t guys ever want to date you? is something wrong with you? you’d probably be a catch! but...you’re alone. you’re still alone but you have school at least. your family and friends aren’t here but you are, for some reason you are here and it’s driving you insane, why, why here? remember when you’d drive home late at night and cry because you felt too much?

I have decided to be ballsier, and I mean that in every aspect of life. I can’t be waiting for this train anymore, this perfect, proverbial, temperature-controlled subway car to take me to the perfect place away from here. I am going to get on the next time it stops. The next time the door opens I am leaving this platform because yesterday, today, tomorrow, it’s all the same to the one who’s in charge. He’s in charge of me. He cares about me. Tonight I knelt down and I laid my head on the bed like a child lays in its mother’s lap. And I cried out. I said, “What do you want? What do you want?” And He answered back, very clearly, very quietly, but quickly: “What do you want?”

Things that would probably fill up these holes:

• the scriptures
• praying more
• being in the temple
• asking for the things I want the most but cannot ask out of fear, or something else gnawing at me--having faith

Some people get in car accidents. They barely survive, and then they get prayed back to life. Miracles. And it wasn’t so much to prove that they could do it, but that God could work miracles. He wants us to pray for those things. Not all of us get in car accidents. Some of us get in life accidents. Like depression or anxiety or crushing inadequacy or loneliness or searing doubt, the kind that burns you so badly you’re not sure you’ll come out the other end whole again. But that’s the whole point. Faith is hard. It kind of turns you inside out. It shakes things up in your life a little bit, usually a lot. It doesn’t make sense all the time, because it has a lot do with “future you,” the person you’re working towards, the person Heavenly Father sees and is wanting for you. “Yeah, I know you want this, but what’s coming next is best.” See, for me, I think he just wants me to try something. Get on the train sometime. If it’s not right for you, get off at the next station. We’ll get there.

I am tired of these holes. I am tired of being a sponge, I am not meant to be porous, I have too many tears coming out of me to sustain this way of life. There is only one fix for this.

2 Nephi 31:21

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^^

love myself/hate myself

what's a latergram, but a blog post? a laterblog? oh who even cares. this is from my drafts.

I hate myself because I just watched the Bachelorette and nobody forced me to.

I love myself because I exercised while I did it, so it wasn't all for naught.

I hate myself because I don't even own a pair of black leggings and it's on my to-buy list before I leave for Europe. Black leggings? What girl doesn't have those?? WHY AM I TALKING ABOUT THIS ON MY BLOG.

I W A T CH E D T H E B A CH EL ORE T T E  O K A Y

I love myself because I found a study abroad through my grad program. In AUSTRIA.

I hate myself because it takes me like 4 hours to shower after I exercise and even then it's like.. "Hmm well I could shower in the morning and not sleep on wet hair." Priorities. 

I love myself because I have good taste in music.

I hate myself because when a favorite artist's new album comes out I listen to it 60 times in a row and then ruin it.

I love myself because sometimes, when a favorite artist's new album comes out I save it for like 6 months later and then I get into it slowly. But that doesn't happen very often. Whomp whomp.

I hate myself because I just said "whomp whomp."

I saw a Chris Pine lookalike today!

the grand catyon

No I didn't. I mean, I really didn't guys, but I figured it would be a good hook for some of you. Did it work? Did anybody just immediately close the tab after recognizing the ruse?

Sorry. I'll never be glob-famous (that was supposed to say blog but it came out "glob" and that makes way more sense and hey, now we all know that "glob" is an anagram for "blog").

Sometimes I think "Nobody even reads this so I should just say what I want."

SOMETIMES I DON'T WEAR A BRA TO WORK. OR ANYWHERE.

SOMETIMES I GET A TEXT FROM SOMEONE AND DON'T TEXT THEM BACK FOR LIKE TWO DAYS BECAUSE I FORGET AND THEN WHEN I REMEMBER I STILL DON'T TEXT THEM BACK.

SOMETIMES I SAY "HELL" WITH AN ACCENT SO IT SOUNDS LIKE "HEWWW" BUT IT'S STILL A SWEAR AND I HATE THAT I DO THAT.

SOMETIMES I PICK UP A BOOK AND READ THE FIRST LINE AND IMMEDIATELY WANT TO BURN THE BOOK. I'M LOOKING AT YOU "BOSSYPANTS."

SOMETIMES I CRY WHEN I LISTEN TO CERTAIN PODCASTS BECAUSE HUMANITYYYY.

But then I think, "Wait. I already say whatever I want."

Don't change who you are, people. Not for anybody!

And don't eat gluten-free bread, it tastes like a tasteless baked potato that's been sitting in the sun for five years.

I'm writing this while laying on my stomach with a hot pad underneath me. That's right, you guessed it. My monthly subscription came. The one I never signed up for. When I did not get into BYU, Trent (my frand) was super annoyed and then he said "Well whatever, they don't deserve you if they didn't like your period story." Thanks Trent. And thanks, Utah State, for being open-minded about period stories. ??????

For the record, I didn't send them that specific story in my application but I may have referenced it when I asked a former professor for a recommendation. It may have slipped out. Of my fingers. Onto the keyboard. WHAT AM I EVEN SAYING ANYMORE.

In other news, the following things have made me cry in the past seven days:

• the new Star Wars trailer (I'm not even kidding. It was the music that slayed me, really)
• a bad dream involving me flying to Oregon to see my bestest Lizzy who then informed me that there was family drama going on and p.s. a sniper in the neighborhood so I had to go home and I remember thinking "But I just got here!" *Sandlot reference* *do any 90's kids read this?*
• all the things
• because I have that monthly subscription
• I would rather get National Geographic tbh
• a new Justin Vernon song hahahahahaha I need to be sedated

me: "yeah I'm totally okay I just (takes deep breath) (starts screaming)"

Oh

How

The

Turn

Tables.

For the past two weeks I haven't been sleeping well. I actually don't usually sleep very well, but the last few weeks have been especially bad. It's like my mind had this itch it could not WOULD NOT scratch, and every night I would get into bed all exhaustified from life and my brain would be like "hey hey psssttt I have a bunch of ideas about our future, wanna hear?" And I'm like, "Uh, maybe not now? Since it's 1am? Maybe no?????" Brain: "Hahahahahaha." *proceeds to not stop talking all night*

lol kill me in the face

I never say "lol" and I probably won't ever say it again. *screenshot*

I was really stressed about all the different directions my life was taking. Imagine you're standing on a road and the road has 5 different forks (which makes it..not a fork...more like a mutant-utensil but ANYWAY) and they all look real nice. The first fork pathway has flowers growing on it and it's sunny, looks sort of like southern California, oh gosh, yeah, no-brainer, I'll take this one. Then while you're walking down that path, you get a glimpse of the other one: it also has flowers growing on it, but it also has huge trees (for shade purposes) and a river flowing next to it. Okay....alright that one looks better. Lemme just backtrack real quick.

And so it continues, until you think "OK. WHICH ONE IS WHICH. WHICH ONE AM I SUPPOSED TO BE ON." Help a brotha out. P.S. Whenever I see the word "brotha" my brain autocorrects it to "brothel." Not helpful. Doesn't your brain autocorrect stuff? Isn't it weird that "autocorrect" is a verb used to describe things other than our phones' Freudian slips?

I got one rejection letter and one acceptance letter this week. Talk about an emotional roller coaster. I was shocked both times. Then two other opportunities presented themselves, and the sleepless nights resumed.

At least I got a solid 5 hours the other day.

*cries softly to self*

/existential crisis rant over (for now)

if you don't put salt on pretty much everything, first of all why

"Ike...Ike...that needs more salt...here...just...let me...salt it for ya....

YESS THE CUPCAKE IS MINE!"

(my thoughts in this picture, probably)

I have no less than 3 salt shakers on my desk at work. That's right, three. I just ate some chips and dip for lunch (duh, what else), and I salted the dip. I also ate a creme brulee after that...with salt on it. Back in 2008, my doctor was all, "McKenzie, you don't have enough sodium in your body." So I said, "Oh no, whatever shall I do. I guess I have to salt all my food." And I did. And I still do. So don't be offended if you cook for me and I throw a lil' salt on top. I'm just tryna enhance all my senses, ok?

Do you guys remember that York Peppermint Patty commercial from like 10 years ago, with the old guy eating a patty and the minty-ness was just really overpowering apparently, and he opened his mouth, revealing a toothless grin, and said "I like any sensation!" Gross. Yuckfest. Yuckmesiter yucko. Right? Me and Liz got some mileage out of that one for awhile. We still do, but we did back then too. Heh.

I bet half of you have already given up on this post by now. You're like "Why is she still writing? What's the point of this even?" I don't know. I never know.

Last night I was sitting in bed reading/writing/solo jamming (alt-j lately. I know. I know.) and I actually hugged myself. I put down my pen and gave myself a hug. Then I wrote about it in my journal. I said "Do you guys wanna hear something really pathetic/cheesy/lame? I just hugged myself. I. Just. Hugged. Myself." And yes, I write my journal as if I'm talking to my future posterity. I think they'll appreciate it. If they ever come into existence.

Jk, jk. That's not what I really think, mom.

This is what I have been thinking lately (as in the last 24 hours)

1) this needs more salt
2) I should probably kiss someone soon before I explode
3) maybe that someone should just be an animal
4) wait no maybe a person
5) this needs more salt?!?!?
6) ugh.
7) my back feels kinda weird ever since somebody who shall not be named popped it
8) it was Trent
9) I never realize how depressed I am in the winter until the sun comes out again and then I'm like "Yooo everybody is my best friend I love everyone here have a free Capri-Sun! Windows down all day! Yayyyyy the sun!" It's that bad.
10) would that I could grow out this awkward haircut already!!
11) I wonder when the trend of saying "Would that" instead of "I wish that" went out of style. I wonder if it was ever a trend....
12) I can't wait til the sun comes out and I can run again and trip over flat surfaces again and air-drum to Twenty One Pilots while I'm running again.
13) If I had guns for hands a lot of people would be accidentally dead because of me because #klutzbomb.
14) I just found a post-it note that said "Don't forget to.." and the rest of it was blurred out. Maybe by tears? Idk but now I know I'm forgetting to do something important #struggs
15) update: I forgot to buy concert tickets
16) wait should I even go to this concert....
17) I might get spit on again.
18) cry face emoji (yes that's right, I think in emojis)
19) Gosh this gum is good! (It's the Icebreakers' brand of gum and it is the uncontested winner)
20) five cry face emojis
21) I wonder if I have an RBF and that's why people are always telling me to cheer up. I'm sorry I don't just sit and smile at nobody and nothing. I'm sorry!
22) I'm not really sorry. I wish I was in the mountains.
23) I should stop thinking and just take an 8 hour nap.

A day in the life of McKenzie's head. I bet you wish you hadn't read that. Right? Five minutes you'll never get back. Except now you know that Icebreakers gum is best and I like salt.

It's been a productive day.

is that cornbread I smell? I think I smell cornbread...

I don't even know. You don't even know. 

I have this thing I do, and it’s called “Naming My Autobiography In Everyday Conversation.” I also like to make everything into the title of any sort of book. It’s a pretty annoying habit, but it can be entertaining when the timing is right. For example, just now my roommate had a boy over (not unusual biznat). So I reintroduced myself to this boy, who in this story we will call Dave. You see, Dave and I had met before, but he didn't remember.

I’ve discovered that since being on the yearbook staff in high school, I have been cursed with a sore cursing. I remember everyone and nobody remembers me. If you do remember who I am, it’s only because I did something embarrassing or said something embarrassing to you which made you feel embarrassed for me, and now that feeling of humiliation has been stamped on your brain forever. “Oh look at that poor blogger who once bled all over her pants and then her tween-crush saw her in that awful state, oh the poor, poor blogger lady.” See what I mean?

So the point is, I said to Dave, “Hi Dave. We’ve met before.”

Dave: “We have?”

Me: “Yes.” (isn’t this riveting)

Dave: “Are you the couch girl?”

Me: ‘I’m sorry?”

Dave: “You’re the girl that was on the couch that one time.”

Me: ????????????? (pretending like I don’t remember but if anybody deserves the title “Couch Girl” it’s probably me, and I guarantee you I wasn’t wearing a bra that time either)

Dave: “I’m pretty sure it was you.”

Oh great, I’m thinking. He only remembers me as couch girl. The girl who is constantly invalid and probably has to have her fruits and veggies blended up to the consistency of Gerber baby paste and fed through a tube while she watches Office reruns through her thick bifocals because her sight has gotten terrible because she never looks at anything besides a computer screen because she is COUCH GIRL. 

So I said the only thing I could think of in that moment which was, “Yeah. It’s me, ‘The Girl Who Was On The Couch That One Time: An Autobiography.” He looked perplexed. I finished tying my shoes and walked away. 

I have been naming my autobiography for the past year. And now you can too. Simply chime in with “An Autobiography: By Me” anytime someone says a phrase that you feel personifies your life. 

To help get you started, I’ve compiled a short(?) list of my current ideas. The list keeps growing. help. I’M ONLY 24. When I’m 80 it’ll probably say stuff like “I Went On Thunder Mountain and Peed A Little” but it will still be true.  Just different, is all.

p.s. all of these are straight-up excerpts from my journal circa 2014. I just capitalized the words and made them into book titles. SHA-BOOM.

• I Used My Roomate's Razor Because I Left Mine in My Room & Now My Legs Are Itchy Do You Think This is Karma Rash?
• On A Scale from One to Making a Mixed Tape How Serious Is This Relationship?
• I'm Pretty Interested In Eating A Lot of Bread
• I Should Probably Do It But I Really Don't Want To
• I Burned My Mouth On A Hot Roll Because I Was So Hungry, Not Because I'm Hardcore
• Work, Cry, Bike, Food, Cry Some Mo' (the entire journal entry was this sentence. NO CHISME)
• I Took A Nap at 10:30pm #WishIWasJoking
• The Ratio of Dark Chocolate Covered Pretzels I Have Eaten to Number of Tears I Have Cried is DIRECTLY Related. What A Dumb Sentence.
• Life Would Be So Much Easier If I Was a Raccoon Who Dropped Smooth Jazz Albums For A Living <-- this is gonna become a doodle. mark my wordzz

I'm on a horse. ...or is that a donkey..??? gUYS WHAT are AnimaLS EVen

this one's about growing up

my students in Mexico+the cake they made me with the intention to shove my face in it

(but I stopped that train before it left the station, you feel me?)

As I write this, Radiohead is playing in my ears--not "Creep." I feel like I should clarify that. I'm eating a piece of really good Mexican chocolate, which is simultaneously bringing me back to that one night in Oaxaca City two years ago, when we dragged our suitcases down the cobblestone streets (not as romantic as it sounds...actually it gives your hands awful cramps), trying to find "Chocolate Street." The tourist books we had were wrong, because everybody knows every street in Oaxaca is "Chocolate Street." It's practically pouring out of the cathedral windows in the centro. You can smell that spicy-sweet cinnamon smell everywhere, along with some other smells which I won't go into detail about on this blog. You know?

So, Mexico.

I almost didn't go to Mexico. I almost didn't go to Rexburg for school, either! Good thing the Spirit is pretty pesky about those things, and by "those things" I mean the things that scare us into paralysis, and make us think "Ohhh no, I am not doing that. Nope, nope, nope. I'll just stay right here in my comfort bubble." Most of the time, though, the Spirit nudges us to do things that, in reality, we really do wanna do, but don't think we have the skills/guts/stamina/brains to do. But hey, God is a really good sculptor (at least, that's the word on the street)! Right? I mean, whenever I get scared about doing something really outside of my usual comfort zone, I think "God hasn't ever led me astray before...so why would He do it this time?"

God doesn't trick us into doing anything. He lets us choose, and sometimes we choose wrong, and that's a pain, but then the Atonement helps out with that, too (different post, different post, you guys). He's trying to make us more. He's trying to help us become. I recently stumbled on this quote which said everything. You know how it goes. When you're looking for an answer, you can find it pretty quickly (and sometimes in really unexpected places!).

from this talk right here

So, God is giving us all these fear-challenging experiences because He wants our faith in him to get really strong. I mean move-that-mountain-over-there strong. He did it with Moses. He did it with Joseph Smith. And it wasn't exactly an easy road for them. You guys. Lots of people thought (and still think) Joseph Smith was a fraud. But he didn't ever deny what he had seen. He didn't cast away his confidence, as Satan gets us to do oftentimes because he makes us feel inadequate. He makes us freeze up. "Oh shoot....I mean, I know I felt good about that decision/feeling/revelation at the time, but now that I have to do it I'm not so sure." 

As soon as I decided to go to Mexico, I was pretty dang sure it was right. So I moved ahead with it. As the date for me to leave got closer, I started to feel a little panicky. That familiar feeling we all know very well--fear. I had a crush on this boy, and I thought "Hey maybe this is supposed to go somewhere...maybe I'm not supposed to go to Mexico." But I had lots of inner-conversation with myself, and I knew that wasn't really the plan. Still, I wasn't 100% convinced. I started to tell myself that going to Mexico "wasn't like me." This is another tactic of the adversary.

He makes us think this amazing, spectacular, awesome thing we are about to embark on isn't "like us" because we haven't ever done it before. He makes us feel inadequate and ill-suited for the task. Haven't you ever noticed that Satan is all about tearing things down? He wants us to be miserable. God, on the other hand, is in the business of building us up. So if God is telling you to do this awesome-but-kinda-scary thing, you can bet it's going to change you for the better. And He will help you. And yeah, maybe it isn't like you to do this crazy awesome thing, but just because you haven't done it before doesn't mean it can't become a part of who you are.

Take Nephi. Nephi had to build a ship, and he'd never done that before. A ship to cross the ocean. So obviously this wasn't just a Boy Scout model. It was grade-A, Pirates of the Caribbean-style ship. And he built it! But he didn't do it alone. He believed what God told him:

"And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led." (1st Nephi 17:13)

A couple of Sundays before I left for Mexico, I asked my bishop for a blessing. I was nervous and still unsure about what I was doing. Lit'rally. I kept looking at my packing list and saying "What am I doing?!?" In the blessing, he basically indicated that there were people and experiences waiting for me in Mexico and I needed to go. It was right! And I think I had faith in that, but I didn't know it for sure until that moment. I knew it would be just fine. The next day I got a phone call with my flight iterinary info, and I remember feeling perfectly at peace after listening to that message. I listened to it over and over. I was even sitting next to my crush in the library when I got the message. I looked at him, and back to my phone, him, back to my phone again. And the Spirit said "Mexico." 

I think all of this is what growing up is. Making decisions that aren't really easy, but you know they're right, and in the end, they make you a much better person than you thought you could be. That's what God is all about. Helping us live up to our potential that He always saw in us, but we couldn't even imagine.

Now go listen to some good get-up music (I've provided the proper music video in that link. Trust me.) and go do that thing that you've been thinking you should probably do for awhile. Just do it! Nike style! Like hike a pyramid maybe! But don't do it right after you've taken Dramamine, because then you'll fall asleep at the top! 

...not like that happened to me or anything.

....

"let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains"

hopefully this is in my future

Not to be a drama queen or anything, buuut I think it's high time I take a break from the internetz for awhile. I currently feel like the emotional wind has been knocked out of me and I'm struggling to get back up. I think if time heals all wounds, the hands on my clock have rheumatoid arthritis or something. Ha.

I love you all. See you sooooon. :)

the best (or worst) $2.75 I ever spent, or An Ode to ZzQuil

can't sleep, won't sleep

I haven't been able to sleep for a month, so yesterday I took matters into my own hands and got some drugz. So what I'm really saying is I put my agency into the hands of a pill bottle. Or something like that.

Everyone knows that I don't do drugs; drugs do me.

Despite the fact that I woke up feeling like I was full of Jell-O, I don't think that was too bad. I came out pretty unscathed. Can't say the same for my stuffed llama though...(I found him hurled to the other side of the room this morning which means I probably threw him in my sleep. Sorry Skeeter).

Anyway, this whole not sleeping bidnez has awoken me (ha! #jokes) to other problems in my life which I have chosen not to face, for whatever dumb natural-man reason. And so, I've decided to disconnect from things that distract me or give me negative feelings. Srsly. I don't have time anymore to be feeling badly about things I cannot control.

It's time to treat mah-self, if that makes any sense. Time to take care of me, and choose myself. It sounds like a no-brainer but I have a hard time with it. I give too much to others and don't leave any for myself. I bet there's some of you reading this who do the same...well, cut it out, dangit. Just stop.

And now, that "ode" I promised you. It makes perfect poetic sense to write this, you know. Most Romantic poets wrote craaazy stuff when they were high on Opium (cough Samuel Coleridge cough). I mean, c'mon. Kubla Khan? Nobody knows what the h that is about. Nobody. Not even ol' Sammy himself. And yes, I was suffering from the hangover that 4 (and I do mean FOUR) sleeping pills caused me.

I could have spent that $2.75 on a Slurpee... (still working on a title)
sometimes I'm sleepy but I just can't sleep
you'd think it were easy to just count sheep
but alas I'm awake and it's 2 AM
so I think I'll make some toast to go with this jam
(stomach grumbles)

one hour later and I've finished Harry Potter...
...Books one through four, now I'm parched for water
I go to the kitchen and what do I see?
A giant Bengal tiger climbing our tree!

I yelp like a kid on the last day of school,
Just want him to know I ain't no fool
He gives me a wink and leaps to the ground,
Which causes an earthquake and an awful sound

The ceiling above my head starts to give way
"Dadgumit I never thought I would go this way!" (I say)
So I eat the peanut butter sandwich which appears in my hand
And I raise the roof, I take a stand (lit'rally)

My roommates wake up, they're glad I was there
To save their lives quickly in the midst of a scare
To think that my insomnia actually saved lives!
When usually it turns me into a zombie with crazy eyes

They're hoisting me on shoulders, grabbing Gatorade
No doubt to pour on my head but I'm still afraid
This is all a dream! No, it couldn't be
I never fell asleep because my brain's on a spree!

But wait--my eyes open, they feel like lead
And here all this time I was laying in bed.
I realize the whole thing was a movie in my brain
And I'm sad cuz I really wanted to taste that Gatorade Rain.

EL FIN

Guys. I wrote that in 20 minutes. I know it's terrible. Just...just...yeah. Does anyone else think ZzQuil sounds like a rapper name? Did you know there's such thing as a Rapper Name Generator? You're welcome.

Today I feel like the boy who did this worksheet.

Alwayz and forever, you guys.

whatever that means...

sometimes to help me sleep I make up recipes in my head....mostly of brownies

So, confession. You mean besiiiides the one she just put up there as her blog title? Srsly. SRSLY. 

Once upon a time I lived in Rexburg and I had a cruuush on dis boy. And I was trying to be real creative in getting this boy to like me too, and maybe possibly perhaps before the world ended, ask me out on a date. Specifically, on a date to the taco bus, because I couldn't think of another place I wanted to go in Rexburg (still can't).

One night before bed, my bff/roommate Chelsea B. had a suggestion. She was wearing her thinking cap, or as I like to call it,

the birth control shower cap

behold (and it wasn't as "cute" as this one, yo)

hence the name.

So she was wearing this shower cap and said to me, very matter-of-factly,

"Heyyy I have an idea!" This is about where it all went downhill (my pride and dignity). But stay with me, kids. The juicy bits are coming.

She suggested that we have a bake-off, and whoever lost had to wear the BCS Cap (I just realized what that looks like and it has nothing to do with college football, nothing) to the grocery store. The grocery store that other people go to.

What other kind of grocery store issss there? Does she mean, like, 7-11?

Okay. So obviously I agreed to this because I was conceited about my baking skillz (#idaydreamaboutbrownies) and I also saw this as a way to make my crush a judge in this bake-off, while simultaneously getting him to like me because BROWNIES. Ya dig?

So, one fine day, after science class, I was walking past the Taylor building (the one that looks like stairs)

(visual aid)

and I just so happened to spot my crush! Ha. HAHA. All of you who know anything about Rexburg and liking another human will know that I did not "just so happen to spot" him there, because I had figured out that he would be there at the precise time I left my science class, and so, I planned it. DUH. The lives of my future children were at stake (or so I thought).

I pretended not to see him (still playin' games at the tender age of 20, ew) and of course he saw me, and ran to catch up to me, and I was like "Oh hellllooo there, so-and-so, I didn't even SEEE you!"

What a fool. I really want to salmon-slap myself in this scene of my life. Just get me a DeLorean so I can go back to this one moment, and deliver a wet fish to my left cheek. KTHXBye.

So we small-talked and eventually I got out the words "brownies" and "bake-off" and "will you be a judge" and what boy doesn't want free brownies....?? So he said yes, and scampered off to class, and I floated home on a cloud, completely oblivious to the humiliation that awaited me in the too-soon future.

The things girls do for boys who don't even care. I mean. Really.

The day of reckoning came (a.k.a. Sunday. How appropriate!). I made these brownies that were...okay, so I purposely chose them because 95% of the internet had claimed they were the best brownies ever. Here's the recipe, yo. And yeah, they were dang good.

But Chelsea, that sly fox. Chelsea made coconut dream bars, and wouldn't you know it, but the bishop's FAVORITE FOOD IS COCONUT. Like, why. I feel like there was some kind of secret agreement there, but okay, I'm not gonna be a poor sport four years later. Seriously. Be more Christlike, McKenzie.

So we took our treats to the waiting area because my crush was there, and so was half of the elders quorum, and the bishop, and they all partook, and the votes were tallied. Oh, and so there wasn't any bias, we didn't tell anyone whose treat was whose. But I sort of blew it when Bishop said, "oooh coconut is my favorite!" and I blurted out, "CHelsEA you CHEATED!"

....

Subtlety isn't my thing, yo.

So, my crush-meister knew the brownies were mine, and therefore he declared, with his eyes rolled back into his head, mind you, "THESE ARE THE BEST BROWNIES IN THE HISTORY OF BROWNIES."

Swoon.

Well, so, the votes were cast aaaand it was a tie. A bloody tie. I skipped home even though it was snowing (those of you who were with me this past Monday night know that skipping isn't something I should participate in, esPECIALLY in the snow, but I was feeling super optimistic on this particular evening back in 2010). I skipped and skipped and didn't even tripped. #poet

We got home and there was a guy in our apartment visiting one of our roommates. There were some leftovers of our goodies on the counter, and he was helping himself to them. This was a regular thing, actually. Boys would come over and just start eating out of our fridge like it wasn't no thang.

Flashback to my first semester, fall 2008. Our FHE brother came over, and without a single word, opened the refrigerator door and started rifling through our foodstuffs. RIFLING. I tell you, if I have ever been close to murdering someone in my lyfe, it was probably...well, okay, I've never been close to murdering anyone (gosh, how famous is this blog now? heh. heheh....????) but I DIGRESS. He was EAting our FOOD without even asking.

So, this same boy was doing the same thing, but with our treats, and at this point I was so blissful that I didn't even care. Until he said, with his mouth stuffed full of diabetes, "mmmm, yeah, these coconut bars....yeaaaassss...."

My eyes got wide and I shook my head and I said "no no no, try the brownies! The brownies!" Chelsea got this look of jubilation and triumph on her face like nothing I'd ever seen. It was like:

meanwhile, I was all:

He said "No. These. Coconut. Bars." And, well, the tie was broken. My fate was set in stone. I was going to have to wear the birth control shower cap to the grocery store. I mean, oh well, right? Who needs eternal marriage anyway?

Also, I made the horrid mistake of telling my crush about this terror the next night in the library. I mean, he was part of it, right? It was all supposed to make him like me, and then I told him about wearing the shower cap to the grocery store. Is it any wonder I was single? He actually thought it was pretty funny, albeit a little weird, and so I took that as further encouragement. And maybe hope.

A few days after the bake-off went down, Chelsea announced to me, rather abruptly I might add, that she "needed" to go grocery shopping. Oh H no. I tried to make up some excuse about how I "wasn't eating" and "didn't really need groceries" and "food is for babies" and bla bla bla but she saw through my transparent excuses. I dragged my feet to her car, the shower cap dangling from my fingers.

It felt just like this:

(replace dat ring with a shower cap because it was 12:30 am when I wrote this and who has time to photoshop at 12:30 am)

Well, we got to the parking lot of Broulim's (I know those of you who have never lived in Rexburg won't know how to pronounce that. It's okay. #notjudgingyou). Immediately Chelsea ordered me to put the shower cap on. I said "Don't be hasty now!" We hadn't even gotten into the store yet. But she was anxious for the humiliation show to begin.

I had stupidly told my crush-manster not to go the grocery store that day because of what was going to go down. He kindly asked me what time exactly, so he would know what time to tell the news reporters, and his grandmother's sister, and maybe CNN. What a gem. I told him to avoid it "around 5pm." WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME. 

When I re-read this story later in life I'm gonna choke on my Marshamallow Mateys. For sure that is happening because I was 100% a doofus and 100% not ready to be marriaged.  I'm cringing just reading it now.

"Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for not letting me contribute to the human gene pool at this time in my life when I wore shower caps to the grocery store and didn't even keep that a secret from my potential love interests. Amen."

#gratitude

Welp, we got inside and I placed the shower cap on mah head, hands trembling, but my face ready to stare down anyone who gave me the hairy eyeball. Turns out, not that many people cared. But the ones who did notice, well, they noticed. Like, their eyes did not stop following me for a good 20 seconds. I was like, "Hellooo, never seen a shower cap before? There's some on aisle 5!" Just kidding. I said nothing. It was all part of the ruse. I was supposed to act like it was normal.

I slowly and painfully picked out some apples and other produce and other groceries, and tried reallllly hard not to bust up laughing. It was probably the hardest thing I have ever done.

Lit'rally. 

Eventually we got to the checkout. Chelsea had no problem controlling her laughter. In fact, she was stifling it the whole time, and not really trying to, and laughing at me, which I'm sure caused more people to be like "What the deviled eggs is happeninnnng here, like what kind of torture is this" and then I had to face the checkout lady. She stared at me for probably the longest of anybody in the store.

Her eyes kept going from my shower cap to my face, shower cap, face, shower cap, faaaaace. She finally said, "So, hooow are you today?"

Immediately my brain sent a signal to my mouth to say "Feeling very clean, thanks."

But I didn't, because that would have blown my cover. Instead I said something boring. "Fiine, fine, thanks. It's debit."

She looked like she was about to laugh, which would've caused me to throw the cap into the air like I was graduating high school all over again, and start cackling hysterically, and run out of the store with my bags hitting my legs furiously, buuuut. I had to finish what I started.

So I calmly took my stuff, and got out of there. Chels and me laughed all the way to her car. And I wore the shower cap all the way home, where I put another nail in the coffin and let Chelsea take my picture. 

In the end, I told my crushfriend that in order to see this awful picture, he had to do something drastic, like, uhh, take me on a date to the taco bus. Of course he agreed because this picture was gold--straight from the humiliation leprechaun's rainbow. What did I just say?

Obviously things did not work out with that boy. But me and the taco bus are still on great terms.