*movie trailer voice* IN A WORLD OF SCREEN ADDICTS, ONE GIRL ATTEMPTS TO READ 50 BOOKS IN ONE YEAR. WILL SHE REALIZE HER DREAMS OR REALIZE THIS GOAL WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA? I MEAN REALLY GUYS, WAS THIS A MISTAKE?!

Wow, typing in all caps is almost as cringey as yelling IRL. Is it cringey or cringy? My computer is giving me the red squiggly lines for both, so it's definitely... an English word.

So yeah, like the title says: I needed a goal because I felt like my life was kinda devoid of goals or hobbies or things other than being cold and sad (see: the winter of 2017). So I decided, why not read 50 books in one year?! It requires no physical activity whatsoever (hrm, and my vital organs are like "CAN IT BE OUR TURN NEXT YEAR PLZ CUZ WE'RE GETTING TOO INSULATED IN HERE"). And it requires pretty much zero effort because I love reading and it's not one of those goals I actually dread accomplishing. I was excited! I hadn't read more than 10 books for pleasure since grad school had ended, so it was time. My D.I. book collection was beginning to swell and I work in a library for cryin' out loud! If I left this job without taking advantage of that fact, it would be one of those stay-awake-at-night-regrets, just like when I left that perfectly intact candy bar just sitting on the ground, uneaten (IT WAS IN A WRAPPER OKAY).

That's enough of the caps lock button.

In this selfsame year (lol, selfsame), a few other unexpected goals kinda just popped their heads out of the ground like gophers and I had no choice but to, well, do them.

At the October General Conference, Pres. Nelson asked us to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. My first thought: Youuuu sneaaaakyyy mom! Yes. Because I, like many others, was already well into my own reading of the BOM (Book of Alma, if you want to know) (but I know you don't). And I was like But I CAN'T start it over and read it all in 3 months?!!!!!!!

And then wouldn't you know it, but the first story in the Book of Mormon is about a guy who has no idea what he's doing half the time but he does it anyway and learns how to do things along the way and he even builds a ship without any prior experience and while his brothers are whining about how nothing is getting done, he gets it done.

YOU KNOW?!

So God had some more to teach me, after all. My institute teacher says that as soon as we assume we know why we're receiving revelation or what the outcome will be of that revelation, the inspiration stops. Because we think it's over! We hold up an umbrella while the rain keeps coming down. In summary: I have been holding up an umbrella for most of this year. Because I just assumed God was "done" talking to me.

Well, then my Goodreads goal said I was at 45 books on this day, December the 11th, and I thought, well, it's not the end of the world if I don't finish.

*looks in mirror*
*holds the side of the mirror aggressively*
"YOU WILL FINISH YOUR GOAL, MCKENZIE."

Usually setting goals and accomplishing them brings such a sense of accomplishment that I immediately want to set another crazy but fulfilling one! *cough* unrealistic *cough

I guess 2019 is the year of the Run.

Here we go again.

only time will tell...

so you wanna become a writer, eh?

Jim = people who feel bad for those who want to write for a career

Dwight = the writers who shouldn't give a carp

*sips my huge water bottle full of lemonade because I accidentally made a gallon of homemade lemonade and so it's not really a sip it's more like a succession of loud gulps*

I very recently decided to own the fact that what I want most in life (career-wise, anyway), is to be a writer. You would think that after two English degrees I wouldn't feel weird about saying "I am a writer." But I did.

Usually, when people asked me what I wanted to do with my degree (which is my least favorite question....all ye who speak to young adults, please ask something else), I squirmed uncomfortably and said "Uh, I dunno."

"You gonna teach?" (always, always this)

"I don't know. I actually did teach already and I didn't love it." (*flashbacks to late nights grading and answering angry student e-mails)

"Well, teaching is great."

"Yeah...."

END CONVERSATION IN A CLAP OF THUNDER

I've been reading lots of self-help books and a lot of them say some iteration of this: what you are good at is not an accident. You are meant to use your god-given talents and share them! That doesn't just mean that because you learned to play the piano you will always be the pianist for Relief Society (but I did just end my streak of having this calling in the past five wards I've been in). Those things you are passionate about shouldn't go to waste! And while using them in church is wonderful and (usually) a good experience, it's not the only experience.

This blog is a microcosm of everything I wish I was, but I am not yet. But maybe that's the thing, maybe my expectations of "what I'm supposed to be" are complete trash. And I should put them where they belong--in the garbage can. So many writers suffer from that fake-curse of thinking "I'm not good enough." And I think writers are one of those groups that actually can say that without a hint of irony, because rejection is part of the gig.

Within one month of submitting a couple of poems to a dozen magazines, one wrote back and said my writing was strong and they wanted to publish, and the other said I "just wasn't a good fit." It used to sting a little, but I send out my poems to so many places it's hard to take things personally now. Maybe it's about getting comfortable with discomfort, with rejection, with someone saying "no thanks." Step one to becoming a writer: learn to take nothing personally, in a world where everyone does.

And people are still saying "no" or "that's a bad idea" to me in other ways, but I've decided not to care, because I know what I'm supposed to be doing. I finally know! And it was always right in front of me.

Since this two-week-old epiphany happened, I've had conversations like this:

my boss: "So, what do you want to do in life? What's your trajectory?"
me: "I want to write."
boss: "Hmm."

student: "What are you going to do with your English degree?"
me: "I want to be a writer."
student: "Oh." (while making a very thinly veiled painful expression)

person: "What did you graduate in?"
me: "English."
person: "On purpose?"

It's probably going to keep happening. And when I publish my first book, I will definitely, positively dedicate zero of my pages to those people.

erosion (this one’s about time)

written in October 2017

I think going on drives is my muse. I think acknowledging I don’t need a muse should be my muse, but isn’t yet.

I realized tonight that I feel lost when I’m not looking for something. I keep going back to the days when I struggled, alone--when I raked hair out of shower drains at 3am or got snowed in every Saturday for four months while writing essays. Fall always makes me look back. Why? I always want to build a time machine just for certain moments, like running away from an ex's house acting like I wasn’t hoping I’d run into him, but running up against more sunsets than I can remember instead.

And I would take the long way home to get away, just to get away, but also to find something else, maybe in the mountains or the tunnels I drove through to get there or maybe at the top of the mountain during summer. Every time it was like a surprise to summit, like calling the wrong number and knowing it, even before the person on the other end says hello and you know you’ll have to stumble and say sorry, wrong number. And you wish you could hire a helicopter to come and whir you away, and off the top of the mountain, and sliding down the glacier on your butt doesn’t make you numb enough to the shame of the whole thing.

And then climbing back down, you see wildflowers.

being your own fan

This information is not really anything new or groundbreaking or like, HEYYY she's saying somethin'! It's been said before. But like all moments of self-realization, like a funny smack in the face from the universe, it needs to be talked abOOT over and over again (I have been watching a lot of Olympic coverage and the Canadians' accents are getting to me).

We worry a lot. We=humans. We pick apart our outfits and the relentless dry skin around our index finger and the ONE hormonal zit that decided to show its face at the tail end of a really good skin week. We fret over the things we create--probably not good enough, we say.

Last week I finally sent out some of my poems for publication. I say "finally" like it was eons between the time I wrote them and the time I sent them out and honestly, it might as well have been! Why did I wait so long? Sure it was terrifying and I'm still a little nauseated thinking about that moment when I pressed "send," but.

I couldn't stand the suspense anymore.

Do you ever wonder how much cooler your life would be if you stopped being afraid of your own ness? Your courage, your creativity, your sense of humor, your ability to hold your breath for longer than a minute (trust me, this is a real skill, because it shows you have absolute disregard for fear, and I need that sometimes)?

I mean, yeah, what if I'm no good at writing poetry? What if my cinnamon rolls are secretly really gross (guys, they're not, they have like 2 cups of sugar and an entire cube of cream cheese, you can't mess that up)???????? What IF WHAT IF WHAT IF.

I hate those two words. They make me--when I'm literally already crossing the starting line--turn back really quickly and hesitate. They make me turn outward and see everyone staring at me and remember the time I fell during that 400m dash (it was in eighth grade, you'd think therapy had fixed that one by now). And then I think "Oh no, what if I mess up?"

My mom says to "fail faster!" If you're going to mess up, you might as well start now. Why put it off? Of all the things to procrastinate, why would you put off the messy bits that, yeah, suck eggs while you're pushing through 'em, but in the end turn you into The Absolute Coolest Version of Yourself God Intended.

Yeah, I'm bringing God into this because for me, personally, I usually can't get past that starting line without a divine nudging. And that's okay, because I'm divine, and I just need a reminder. I need an assist. God is the Stockton to my Malone.

I propose the best thing you could do for yourself today, right now, is to become your biggest, best, unabashed fan. If you're picturing a ceiling fan, fine, but maybe you could switch that image over to one of those industrial fans used to clean up a flooded basement. You're going to need the extra push to get over that scary cliff.

But don't worry.

There's a trampoline at the bottom.

paying attention what it's worth

source

This is an opinion post (as are all of them, because this is a blog). If you don't like it, that's okay. The great thing about opinions is that you don't have to give them a second thought. You don't have to react at all. Isn't it great?

Once upon a time not long ago at all, I love(d) Instagram. A little too much. I kept reaching for my phone even when it wasn't there (this is very embarrassing for me to admit). Any time I did some kind of "cool" activity, I thought about what my caption was going to be the entire time I was doing the thing. Sometimes I would get on Instagram to look up somebody specific, start scrolling, get completely distracted, forget why I was on, close it, then remember, open it up again...and the cycle continued.

I couldn't sit through any leisurely activity anymore without "looking something up" on my phone (IMDB--"What else has this actor been in?" Wikipedia--"What true story is this movie based on?" "Oh this totally reminds me of...." -Check Instagram again). I couldn't sit still, I couldn't wait in a doctor's office or at the mechanic's or anywhere for longer than 5 minutes without my phone. The only "safe" place was church, where I didn't open social media apps, but I still caught myself "scrolling" during any in-between-meetings time, looking at my photos, checking the news, the weather.

I was not paying attention to anything anymore.

When you want to become a writer, the first advice you'll get, whether it's from a published author or your second-grade teacher, is to write down everything. You don't have to know everything--you just have to pay attention. Your job is to observe. The words come later.

The first time I committed to this practice was in 10th grade. My journal was a tattered, purple college-ruled notebook full of playlists, angsty sonnets I wrote about the troubles of being 16 (oh what did I know?), and observations. I still remember one day sitting in the car outside Albertson's while my mom went to get milk; a woman sat in her own car adjacent to mine, and she looked distraught. She wasn't having a good day from what I could tell. No tears, but her eyebrows met in the middle like a half-hearted handshake and her hair was just...everywhere. Not on purpose.

She was also eating Tootsie Rolls at an alarming rate. I started to worry she was going to choke because of how fast she was shoveling them in, like she was on a deadline. I wrote about this in my journal and came up with a list of reasons she might be binging on Tootsie Rolls. The reason didn't really matter--I didn't need to know. It was just something out of the ordinary I happened to notice because I was not looking down at a screen.

Now, you could argue that people-watching, eavesdropping, all of that, is invasive.

Yeah, maybe it is. But I have no idea who that woman was. If I had, I wouldn't have written about her (without changing her name, of course). I didn't take a picture of her and send it to anyone saying "OMG LOOK AT HER WHAT IS SHE DOING." I did not post this hypothetical photo on a garbage-forum so that others could pick it apart and analyze why she was doing the unthinkable--EATING TOOTSIE ROLLS HOW DARE SHE (I am not very successfully alluding to Get Off My Internets, or GOMI, one of the worst websites in the known universe).

I felt a kind of empathy that comes when you take the time to look at a person--instead of judging them or comparing yourself to them, you ask yourself how is she/he like me? And then, instead of How can I be more like him/her, you say, How can I help that person? 

Instagram had/has its benefits: you can feel connected to friends you actually never talk to IRL, you can commiserate over similar day-to-day feelings and experiences with people you might not have before the invention of the internet, you can make your life look more interesting than it really is, you can receive validation for doing things you love. Most of those things, if not all, are good.

But man, every time I scrolled I felt like a robot. I felt zero connection to any of the squares on the screen. I pressed "like" not because I actually felt inspired by the person or the photo, but because I felt like I had to, because the person was my "friend."

Here is the real truth that you don't see on my Instagram account:

• I have virtually zero friends in Logan, save for my husband. On the weekends, we stay home and do laundry and watch movies. When we invite people over, they usually can't/don't come. Shoulder shrug emoji.
• My weight is perfectly healthy, but seeing all of those swimsuit pics on Instagram (which I can't seem to annihilate from my explore page no matter how hard I try), I feel kind of bad about it. 
• I cry at least once a week about what I'm doing with my liiiiiife I can't believe I still don't know
• I want to be a more spiritual person but I am not the best at cultivating this every day.
• I want to be able to speak my mind more often, but I usually keep my mouth shut.
• I get really jealous of everybody's else lives, their book collection, their never-ending travels, their wardrobes, their babies, their huge twitter following, their muscles, their drive, their testimonies, their stage of life, their budgeting skills, their houses, their massive skincare collection...and on and on it goes.

At the end of December, I began to feel these familiar feelings again, feelings of not having "enough," especially time to do what I really loved, which was create. I wasn't creating anything, except some "ideal persona" on the internet. Who was she? Did I really want to be her? 

I didn't. 

So I signed out, I deleted the app, and I got out my notebook again. The cover simply says "Write." All the inspiration I thought had been completely wiped off the face of Planet McKenzie in some plague of self-indulgence came back, and it was like, Oh yeah! I remember this. I remembered what I had to do. The words came back suddenly, like a flash flood, and I realized they hadn't left. They'd just been dammed up, stored up for later, and as soon as I cracked open the dam of distraction, out they came. 

I still love Instagram. And you should know, since deleting it, I have felt more alone than ever. *Universe whispers IRONY very loudly* 

But I'm taking walks again. I'm starting to see things plainly. And best of all, I see people more clearly now. They're just people. They're human, just like me. And humans deserve the kind of attention that comes from really looking at a person--and you can't do that through a screen.

an honest post

I'm going to let you in on a secret. I am pulling you by the shirt collar so you'll lean in while I whisper it to you. Ready?

I have no idea what I'm doing. I read that in my head very slowly, so that my head might comprehend it, and then perhaps maybe my head would/will stop being so hard on me. Sayin' things like "You're not good enough for this" or "You should probably just give up now because you're lost" and other such awful things. Awful, I tell ya. "Sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind," yes I just quoted song lyrics on here, yes I just quoted a Twenty One Pilots song on here, but it applies. And I'm alllllll about constant and thorough application (especially when it comes to lotion).

The story goes like this:

Girl graduates from college (the first time, lol).

Girl thinks now she has everything figured out.

Girl does not.

Girl takes a handful of jobs that don't really suit her and don't pay the bills sufficiently.

Girl plays with the idea of grad school for a long time (3 years), but doesn't do anything about it because she's scared it will just make her poor again and she still won't have any idea what to do with that degree. So she waits in fear.

Girl finally applies to grad school and gets in. A sign maybe? Maybe she is supposed to do this after all? 

Not knowing why, girl moves to Logan and starts school.

It's hard.

Way harder than she thought. 

She never sleeps because of all the work, and she's lonely, and is still freaking out thinking, "Why am I here??"

The second semester is better. 

Girl sort of knows what she's doing now. 

She sleeps better.

But occasionally, the original panic sets in.

Like today.

Today, the girl woke up having left another awful (temporary) job, and, realizing she was again without a steady income... panicked.

Girl walked to plasma center, where her pulse was so high (i.e. the panic) that they turned her away.

Girl cried all the way home because now she can't even give plasma, which makes her feel dumb for coming all the way to grad school without any idea what she'll do with the degree (sound familiar)?

Girl has a shower cry.

Girl prays.

Girl tries to convince herself that what she's doing really is right because she felt like it was many times before, even though it feels totally ridiculous and illogical right now. 

SPOILER: THE GIRL IS ME.

I have been struggling for awhile. Since 2012 when I left BYU-Idaho, I thought that my life would finally "start," whatever that means, and I'd get a good job and establish myself in the world and not constantly worry about if I was gonna have to buy groceries that week, bla bla bla. I hope this doesn't come off as whiny. It's mostly just to say that if you're panicking about a recent huge life choice you made, it's normal (I hope???). I mean, it's relatable. I MEAN...I think this happens to everyone at least once, but probably more than once. 

We get prompted to do something that would majorly test our faith, so we do it (after some nudging, at least on my part because I am stubborn and fearful), and then things don't really...work? 

I don't know why, but I always expect things to go smoothly after I follow a prompting. Like, yes, now my life will feel complete and I'll feel like I'm going in the right direction. Things will get easier now.

No. That's never happened to me. Following promptings is hard, and I don't just mean the initial "yes okay I am going to do this finally" part, when we surrender our stubbornness, but when we actually start the dang thing it feels impossible. It feels never-ending sometimes. It feels like...I have a lot more shower cries to come until I get this right.

I've been sitting in this basement apartment since last August and looking upwards going, "Okayyyyy?????? Is this right???? Did I make a wrong turn? Are you absolutely sureeee????" 

Sometimes I don't get any feedback. Which is hard, because feedback is what keeps me going (just ask Houston, my love language=words of affirmation). But that doesn't mean God isn't there and that He isn't listening. Sometimes one prayer is enough to get me through one more day, and then I try again.

I'm trying to stop asking so many questions and just...go. Just do it. And then I remember that the right path is always uphill (President Eyring said so), so this has to be right, even though it feels wrong sometimes. 

DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE?!

I don't know how to end this, so....goodbye and peace be the journey and I'm trying and so are all of us so let's just calm down for a sec and stop panicking.

thoughts after an accidental 3 hour nap

The kind of nap that really ties you up and beats you up and you wake up totally disoriented and frothing with hate.

Well, not hate. 

Just...more tired. 

How can that be?

I really need to ride my bike to the dermatologist, but it is so hot.

Every summer I remember how hot it gets. Why do I forget? It's like when those monthly cramps come and every time, EVERY time I forget what it is. Every summer the heat wave starts to get more intense and then I remember just how much heat I can handle (not a lot). Which is not my favorite, because I would rather be warm than be cold.

I prefer the sun being out until 10pm instead of 5. Winter will now always remind me of never ending grading and insomnia.

So every summer I resolve to embrace heat again, just accept that I'm not going to bother fixing my hair or doing makeup or any of it because it all melts off of me. I am part wax. I accept this, and that's when I accept summer isn't out to kill me after all. Instead it's more of a recharging thing. Like how Superman is with the sun. 

I recently stopped taking my phone places--I was guilty of not enjoying things because I had my phone. Not because I needlessly surfed the Internet during a time when I could've been having an awkward conversation with a stranger or just (gasp) sitting in silence--although those are good enough reasons. I felt like I was doing a lot of things just to show that I did them on the Internet. 

Whom am I proving myself to? People on the Internet who don't know me and some who do, but the ones who do don't need proof...

Proof of what? Proof that I hike or make myself food or draw or sit on my roof sometimes to escape bugs (it doesn't work)? That's just me living my life, but ever since the invent of social media, everybody wants to share those normal things (good), but sharing them gets in the way of actually experiencing them (bad).

Sharing them means making them look better than they really looked (filters or perfect hand placing or what have you). 

And that part of it was giving me anxiety. I don't wanna spend the entire hike thinking of a caption to the picture I'm eventually gonna post of aforementioned hike! What is that?!

And so, last weekend we went to Peter Bjorn and John and I did not take my phone. I have no record of it. But the air was perfect and nobody spit on me (yes!) and they played our favorite song at the very end. I never once felt distanced from anyone because there was nothing between me and everyone else. No phone/other virtual world.

Recently, two women I follow on instagram lost their husbands very young. One of them wrote a post that struck me--she said that all of the things she used to post about--hair, clothes, recipes, etc--all of that was superficial. In her darkest hours, the most important things she'd clung to were her testimony and the love of her family. She reiterated that those are the most important things, and we should focus more of our daily energy on them. I felt guilty. Because I do that; I care too much about things that really don't matter.

Last night we went on a long walk and the sunset must've just known I didn't have my phone, because it was spectacular. Like if a hymn was a sunset. You know? I have no proof that these things happened, at least not tangible. But I can write what I remember--that's what I've always done. In the last few months, good writing has eluded me. I think I know why. I was investing all my creativity into one small thing, a small thing that yielded poor returns: likes. 

LIKES. I sold my soul to the devil for likes. But not anymore. I'll be writing much more and I hope you'll come back. If not, welllllll, I'll still be writing.

dude. this was where a guy killed that giant grizzly bear in the 1920's (10 ft tall, 1 ton, etc) (so much YIKE)

on a sidenote, Utah is really beauteous. always. forever. whoever says it's ugly

has never left their house.

the art of asking for things

I hate the weird encroaching feeling that I get sometimes when I haven't written on this blog in awhile. And I'm starting to think my actual journaling habits are starting to coincide with this blog as well. I cringe as I type this, but I haven't written a real-life journal entry in my beloved notebook for four months now. Anyway, blogging. Why do I feel obligated to share whatever happens to be in my head for the entire world to find/read/analyze/laugh at/laugh with/cry with? 

I'm sure many a blogger has had a "blogging existential crisis" and oft times it led them to just delete their blog altogether and then they have declared themselves "free." Well, it wouldn't be so for me. Like, I did that once. I didn't delete the blog, I just abandoned it, because it felt finished. In a certain English class many years ago, one of my poetry professors said no writing is ever finished, we just abandon it. So, whatever, it was finished, I abandoned it, the things I created the blog for had served their purpose and I put them in the proverbial Cemetery of Blogs (RIP and I'm sorry that people still find that blog because they google "redhead in overalls." I'm not sorry my blog is the first hit, I'm just sorry people are still googling that for some reason? Although overalls are making a comeback. I DIGRESS). But I need to write. I have to write somewhere, and blogging seems as good a place as any.

The point is, sometimes I have no idea why I am still blogging. Especially when I feel like I don't have anything to say, nothing. Since school got out for the summer I have been experiencing another round of writer's block, which comes to haunt me at the worst possible times--when I have nothing to do. I have TIME. I have actual time, reams of it, with which to work on my thesis or read or do anything but study, and yet inspiration eludes me. 

Instead I sit at a very small cubicle (technically it's an isosceles shape but there's not a name for desks shaped like triangles, k) every day and call 250 people a day and I rehearse the same words over and over and I get paid minimum wage to do that, because I still have to buy groceries, even though I don't feel like I'm doing a very good job of existing right now, yes I still have to eat. Dangit. 

And I give plasma (sorry mom) because of the same reasons and dadgummit I just hate this feeling of wasting time. 

So of course, after another day of letting it crash down on me, I crashed (literally) up against a chair and broke my pinky toe, and now I can't walk without looking like I'm coming forth from the Black Lagoon. This happens a lot. When I need to be humbled, God usually does it by way of physical ailment because then I have to--DUN DUN DUN--rely on other people. The horror! But really. A nightmare for someone like me who wants to be independent every ding dong day but also feels like a useless fish right now with no purpose but also still wants to try and do everything herself. 

So then God, all-loving and perfect parent that He is, says gently, "McKenzie, you need to practice reliance. Not just self-reliance, but reliance on others."

Think of it this way. Somewhere someone in your general arm's reach has prayed today for an opportunity to serve someone. It may have even been you that they prayed for specifically! And when you say, "No thanks, I can do it myself," even when you're literally limping to go to the kitchen, you're not letting that person's prayer be answered, and you're also being a stubborn donkey. Cut it out, McKenzie.

My point is, it's okay to ask. It's okay to ask for help, inspiration, patience, a physical helping hand, eternal perspective, understanding of sorrow, and all the other things.

That's what the scripture says: "Even more amazing than modern technology is our opportunity to access information directly from heaven, without hardware, software, or monthly service fees. It is one of the most marvelous gifts the Lord has offered to mortals. It is His generous invitation to “ask, and it shall be given you; seek,and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” This timeless offer to provide personal revelation is extended to all of His children. It almost sounds too good to be true. But it is true!" Russell M. Nelson "Ask, Seek, Knock"

I'm not saying the answers will come quickly or all at once. They usually hit me when I'm least expecting it. When I have waited for quite some time. I know I'm an impatient person because God makes me wait a lot--He's teaching me patience. My old stake president called them "at the buzzer moments." He said God loves "at the buzzer" moments. Right at that point when you think you just can't anymore, that's when he gives you the answer or the help or the inspiration or whatever it is. But He won't give you anything if you don't ask.Somehow I started a post about not feeling inspired and ended it with...asking. Hmm. Interesting.

for the afternoon crowd

Ooooh, those trials of faith will really get you to stop and think, won't they? Not a day goes by when I don't feel like my faith is getting tested a little bit more than it was the day before. Heavenly Father must expect some great things from me, and that's why he's testing me. I can only hope I'm doing a good job. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

I was talking to a friend recently about application. Not application of foundation (different blog, move on, people, move on) (but if you want to apply your foundation correctly go with a Beauty Blender, ok bye).

We were talking about "gospel blogs" and the like and she told me she'd been looking for something with a little bit more substance. All of us probably read Pinterest quotes all the time and post them on our Instagram, we post a video and hashtag it with the latest #sharegoodness derivative, we gush on our Facebook page about how grateful we are, but I don't know if we talk enough about application.

David O. McKay articulated it best:

"Faith in God cannot of course be other than personal. It must be yours; it must be mine; and, to be effective, must spring from the mind and heart. What we need today is faith in the living Christ, which is more than a mere feeling, but a power that moves us to action—a faith that will put purpose into life and courage into the heart. We need the gospel of application." (source)

I know that for myself, the gospel makes a lot more sense to me when I use it. Well duh. Of course it does. If you never drove your car and just stared at it sitting in your driveway, you'd never learn how to drive or how to be around other drivers or understand traffic laws. You'd just have a potential way to get around. But of course it wouldn't do you any good. The gospel is the same way. The only way I can make the gospel work for me is when I use it every day. I'm still figuring out what that means for me, but everyone has personal things they're working on. If you want a great talk about that, I would check out Elder Lawrence's "What Lack I Yet?" That was a wonderful talk about application.

I'm not sure why this is on my mind right now, but here it is. It's not very elegant or complicated, but that's the gospel. It's simple. Next time you post on social media about #sharinggoodness, try asking yourself what you can do to apply what you've just shared. That's what I'm trying.

burning stuff

a place you can go if you want to dropkick fear into outer space

I wrote a poem last week. The first line said, "Before you burn something you have to say its name." I think I need to talk about this some more, and what I mean by "this" is that four letter word we all know pretty well by now. Fear. Before we let go of something that's been eating us alive, we have to acknowledge our attachment to it. Yeah, humans love fear. They love it. It's a frappin' disease.

This morning I woke up to see that one of my dear friends had posted a picture of Belgium. At first I thought it was kind of random, I mean I knew she had gone on her mission there but why post it now? She'd been back for a few years. Then I scrolled further down the page. For some reason, this time struck me differently than all the other times--like this realization that we're dealing with a really, really evil adversary right now. Satan is dead set on this whole enmity thing. But I'm not gonna let him win, not today.

I sat in my bed for awhile and I cried. Like, really cried. It was so weird and rare (ha!). I think the combination of what had happened + some people's commentary on it was already so frustrating to me. Because the main message of society/the internet/whoever wants attention at the moment (Trump, I'm talking to you) was this: be afraid. It's going to happen to us next. Let's round up all the people who could be associated with this and get rid of them. Let's hole up in our houses and never leave. Let's bully people into submission. Yes, let's. That sounds like a great solution.

I want to be very clear: fear will get you absolutely nowhere. This is an eternal truth I have learned by experience, but if you haven't gotten there yet, fear not! Here's some scriptures to back it up:

1st Nephi (basically the entire book) *emphasis added
1st Nephi 4:6-7 "And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do....nevertheless I went forth."
1st Nephi 12:23 "...after they had dwindled in unbelief [a symptom of fear=staying put], they became a dark, and loathsome, and a filthy people, full of idleness and all manner of abominations."
1st Nephi 17:3 "And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them; wherefore, he did provide means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness." (they were in one place, but moving forward despite not knowing the future)
Helaman 5:34 "they were immovable because of the fear which did come upon them..."
Alma 12:10 "...he that will harden his heart, the same receiveth the lesser portion of the word..."
Matthew 14:3-31 But when he saw the wind boisterous, he [Peter] was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

We all know what the opposite of fear is! Faith. But faith is dang hard to execute. Trust me, I know. I cannot tell you how many times in just the last five years of my life that Heavenly Father nudged me to do something that was totally ridiculous to me (at the time). Exhibit A: grad school. But I finally learned (through many heartbreaking lessons) it was easier to just move forward instead of sitting still in fear. And it was so much more rewarding. Faith is like that, you know.

"Just as doubt, despair, and desensitization go together, so do faith, hope, and charity. The latter, however, must be carefully and constantly nurtured, whereas despair, like dandelions, needs so little encouragement to sprout and spread. Despair comes so naturally to the natural man!” Neal A. Maxwell, one of my favorites ever, said that, and it's true. Why do we love despair so much? Why?? Why do we hold onto its skirts and let it drag us through the mud? Is it exhilarating? Maybe for a second. I guess you do feel like you're moving somewhere, even if it's an imaginary somewhere that you've only made up so you have someplace for your doubt to land. 

If there's something making you stew with fear right now, pray for help to overcome that. I know you can--that's part of the enabling power of the Atonement. The Savior makes it possible to overcome the insurmountable--like living in a world that deals with the kind of news we got today on a regular basis. 

So if you're reading this right now, today, and you're about to do it--don't. Don't succumb to fear--stick it in the fire. 

It's a dirty pirate, anyway. And it takes no prisoners.

just some whining about dating, how very original

I just made THEACTUALBESTBEEFSTEWOMG and then I poured it over cheesy polenta and while I ate it I decided on a good time to go get froyo later. I'm basically dating myself. That's what all single people should do, right? Isn't that some hipster quote on a meme-instagram? Memestagram. Idk.

Today I watched a lil' documentary that apparently played in between conference sessions, but I was sleeping during that time, so I didn't see it. It was about marriage/dating/relationships, especially in regards to millennials. Do you see where this is going? DO YOU? Yes. To froyo. But not till 8 o'clock when everyone in Logan is at the HOWL and subsequently not at Yogurtland. Yay.

But really, dating. Why is it this mysterious concept to some (maybe most?) of us...? Examples. I have gotten "asked out" (yes I am putting that in quotes and I have REASONS) via social media two times as of late. While there's nothing wrong with using social media to make connections with people, sometimes I think it becomes a little bit too convenient. It makes it too easy to judge whether we like/don't like someone, based on their profile pic or their tinder bio or the funny things they tweet. And yo, everyone tweets funny stuff. That's all Twitter is. My point is, it's edited. There's an English-y word for this: a simulacrum. It means "a copy of a copy."

The best example I can think of a simulacrum besides social media is Main Street USA in Disneyland. Main Street USA is an imitation, or copy, of this ideal neighborhood which, in fact, does not exist. Social media does the same thing to human beans. We're all trying to show each other we have the "perfect" life, but what does that even mean?! WUT DOES IT MEAN.

Another thing that bugs about dating in this day and age is I'm often wondering, "Isss....this a date? I can't tell." I thought a date was a pretty clearly defined activity, but honestly it's getting harder to tell. When a guy asks me to hang out/come over/eat pizza, and I don't even know him in real life, I think "Okay....umm....wait...but I don't know you. Are you sure you wanna hang with me?" It wouldn't be as weird if they just asked me on a date, flat-out. But this culture of being afraid that the person you go on a date with is either a) your spouse or b) not, makes it easier to say "let's hang out." And so, I am never 100% confident of the boy's intentions, and I balk and want to run away. Balk. What a weird word.

I'm rammmblingggggg. Maybe I need that froyo now. No...must...resist....can't...be...seen...in...public...by...a student...

This documentary talked all about the backwards view that millennials have of dating. They think that they need to spend a certain amount of time with someone before they commit...and then they never actually do the committing. The documentary interviewed dozens of couples, some that have been married a few years, some for 70-something years, and some in between. They all had the same thing in common--commitment. They said that good, strong relationship come after we commit, not before. Duh! But we, being millennials trained to wait for the perfect person before we take a risk, get scared, and then don't do anything. I am soooooooo guilty of this. Like, so guilty. I'm trying to get out of that funk right now. It's easy when I'm literally doing homework from dawn until dusk, and can't ever do anything social (besides going to froyo by myself). Ha. Such sarcasm, very sass.

I want to be content with life right now, and life for me is basically school and making delicious foods for me, myself, and I. But I also don't want to scare myself from being in relationships because of how convenient it is to get out of one (because of social media). You know?

McKenzie, the Dating Connoisseur. (Tombstone Rough Draft Idea #1) (Because I Might Be Dead Before This Is Actually True)