nothing like hitchcock to get you primed for hallow's eve
The past few weeks have been pretty sh-sh-shaky, but I've come out on top, thanks to a lovely Stake Conference and lots of pumpkiny deliciousness. What, doesn't anyone else self-medicate with loads of beta carotene? What? Nobody? Okay then...
1. a homemade batch of salsa verde, served up extra hot. We're talkin' an entire jalapeno in the mix, guys. don't worry, I'm not dating anyone...and if I was this salsa might break us up.
2. this book, a gift from Tessaface not too long ago. Every night after journal time, I write in this thing. 'tis awesome.
3. walking by somebody in the library I don't know and hearing him say, "hey mckenzie," kind of creepishly under his breath. Did that just happen to me?! I pretended I was hearing impaired. Then stifled a laugh for as long as I could until he was out of earshot. I think it's 'bout time to delete that facebook account. Yeesh...
4. yet another glorious station on pandora radio. It's hard to not turn it way up in the mornings and jam...but hey, I am nice to the people downstairs. Except when they decide to have guitar practice at 11:30 at night. Then I just want to do a ninja-jump off of my bed onto the floor. Yeah, that's mature.
5. once again pounding some piano keys in the Snow Building. however, this time I was competing with the Mozart next door who just didn't want to hear my take on Jon Schmidt. Sorry, but I used to play against the voice majors. I will out-play you.
6. those brown boots I wear, which will be clean wore-out by the end of next April. Poor things. That's what I get for living in Rexburg.
7. kicking and jumping through the ever-growing pile of yellow leaves on the sidewalk every day as I walk home from school. don't worry, I'm just a 5-year old living in a 21-year old's body.
8. autumny bike rides almost every day.
9. miraculously finding purple long johns at Wal-Mart (I know, and in Rexburg!) for my costume. Oh yeah...it's going to be so saweet you should already be jealous.
10. sleeping like a log. and if I'm going to use that cliche, I'd better un-cliche it and say that I slept like an entire forest. What? The first one didn't make sense either. Just roll wit it.
In the past week I have found myself on the verge of tears just a few times, but I'm not even sure why. Today in Old Testament we were sitting there talking about the 2nd coming and all of sudden and I had to hold back a sob. A sob, people!! I don't sob! Ugh. Well on Monday the same thing happened, in the same class, because something the teacher said made me think of a dream I had a little while ago, which also made me want to cry right then. And I nearly did. I just hafta talk myself out of it...
"Kenz...c'mon...you are NOT gonna cry in front of all these people. Keep it together, man!"
Sometimes the urge will come while I'm walking to class and I see the picnic table I once did a ninja-jump off of my freshman year. Because I remember how young and inexperienced I was then, and I remember how Courtney was with me, and I think about how I'm going to leave this place soon...and...and...I just get kinda melancholy. Hence the tears.
Or other times I'll be sitting in church looking around at all of the people I know and wondering what will happen with their lives after we all leave...and I think about what's going to happen to me, and when I realize I don't know, I want to cry.
Then there's those moments when I am sitting in devotional and the speaker says something that I know, I know, God probably told him to put in his talk just for me, and I want to cry right then but not in front of the whole student body! Honestly....my tear ducts have no pride.
The worst, and by that I mean the most embarrassing, is when I walk by the many construction sites and I see the Mexicans working...and that gets me thinking about Mexico...and by that point I can't even stop. I just have to use my scarf as a mask so no one will see my face, crying.
If this isn't hormones, there's only one explanation: I have Anderson blood running through my veins.
For those of you unfamiliar with the hipster movement, let me enlighten you.
So-called "hipsters" like to wear cardigans, "ugly sweaters," big baggy sweatshirts, etc. But they can't be too baggy. We've gotta stay semi-classy, ok?
Then there's the tea. Apparently hipsters drink a lot of it, preferably in vintage teacups. Whatever that means. Which brings me to my next point--the vintage-ness. This is also known as thrifting, but some hipsters don't want you to know they shop at the thrift store. So when you ask, "Hey, I love that dress!" they can say "Thanks, it's vintage." Now you all know that's code for D.I.
Hipsters love to rock the Harold B. Lee's. Or what others would commonly call the nerd glasses. I have this theory, and it's probably completely wrong,but that's why I'm calling it a theory and not a fact. Ever since the 3-D movies started being the norm, those nerd glasses have become the cool thing to wear. 3-D movies=leftover 3-D glasses-their lens=hipster. Wa-la!
As far as footwear goes, they like to keep it real in Vans slip-ons or any kind of slip on tennis shoe (think Keds). Even better if you can wear these shoes with skinny jeans. Even if you're a boy--if you're a hipster, skinny jeans are ok. Also, if you are hipster, slouchy beanies are a must.
Oh, and it doesn't hurt if you have a mustache. Girls, a fake one will do. In fact, fake ones are becoming even more popular.
In their free time, hipsters like to be out in the wild. Sounds kind of transcendentalist, huh? Well, it's true. They like to gallivant in the woods, climb trees, ford streams, and if they are true hipsters, they read poetry while they do it. Then they take polaroid pictures of themselves doing these activities and they end up on weheart.com with their own category (you guessed it..."hipster").
The most important facet of being a hipster is the music. The music is probably what makes hipsters hipsters. They listen to folk and/or alternative rock. What the junk is folk, you ask? Stuff like Bon Iver, Mumford and Sons, Death Cab for Cutie, Fleet Foxes, Elliot Smith, Damien Rice, Iron & Wine, Jose Gonzalez...getting a feel for it yet? And the alternative rock, well that's Explosions in the Sky, The Naked and the Famous, Phoenix, Rogue Wave, Arcade Fire, The Decemberists, etc etc etc.
Here is my dilemma. That, right there, is the kind of music I listen to. At first when I started seeing these tunes put in a category called "hipster music," I was kind of offended. Until I realized...I might be a hipster. But it was a complete accident, I swear. See for yourself:
Today I wore skinny corduroy jeans. I don't wear skinny anything...but today, I did.
My roommate regularly makes fruit tea and when she offers...obviously, I accept. Because it's tasty.
I like to go to the D.I. all the time. A good Saturday would consist of me cooking, riding my bike, and going to the D.I. Which is probably what I'll do tomorrow. Ack.
I own a pair of grey Vans Slip-ons. They're comfy, ok? I also own a pair of square-lens glasses, a pair of nerd glasses, a pair of fake glasses with the lenses still in them (so they aren't completely hipster, but still...), and a slouchy yellow hat which I wear often. Oops.
I like to be outside whenever possible. I went on a bike ride at least three times this week when I couldn't take the library anymore.
And do I have a little writer's notebook to write down poem/story ideas? Maybe... Okay, I do!
The lesson for today is, it's okay to be a hipster...as long as you are still being yourself. The end.
For more about hipsters, read this! No really...it's kind of funny. And I didn't even read it before I wrote this...that just goes to show you how much I already know about hipsters. Ahh I really am becoming one of them!
I knew when I woke up this morning--actually long before I woke up--that this week was going to be one from the place down under. And I'm not talking about Australia. So instead of thinking about that, I decided to make a happy list.
the smell of old books. I smelled not one but three yellow-paged books today. I'm sure everybody on the 2nd floor was confused. They just don't undastan!
buying one of these beauties at last. This Saturday is gonna be like Christmas! No foolin'.
autumny music like this and this and this (p.s. no clue why there's a hockey player picture on that middle video. just listen to the music, kids).
the smattering of new freckles which has recently taken up residence on my forehead. um, helllooo, I haven't been in Mexican sunshine for six (?!) months now. What are you doing up there?
finally getting to wear my boots and sweaters and corduroy skirts. p.s. corduroy is a weird word.
indexing like I usually do on Sundays and putting down the occupation of a 3-year old as "scholar." Back in the olden days, it didn't matter how old you were--if you were in school, you were a scholar. Check. Yes.
the sound of leaves crunching beneath my bike tires. also, that cool autumn breeze on my face doesn't hurt either. basically, the only bad thing about bike rides in the fall is all of the bugs I have to swallow. Ick.
mailing not one but two letters this past week. And one of them was very obese...dear Amy, I hope you have warmed up your eyes for this one.
writing notes on gum wrappers. this used to be a cb scent and mcfrenzy tradition. I try to pretend she's still here sometimes.
letting my roommate cut my hair--it was gratis, guys. and not only was it zero dollah, it was also snazzy. My head feels lighter. Hopefully it's not because my brain is melting from all of this schooling...
finding old quotes from the chilluns in my journals.
Ellie: Why do we have Easter? Mom: Because Jesus died and then got resurrected. Ellie: So he got zapped? Mom: Huh? Zapped? Ellie: Yeah, zapped! Bippity-boppity-boo!
confession 1: this week I took an old red skirt which was destined for the D.I. pile and instead threw it into the bathtub with a whole bunch of bleach. I smelled like a swimming pool for days. And the skirt did not turn pink like I planned. It's more of a pukey orange color...perfect for fall, no? So much for being domesticated.
confession 2: I have eaten more pb&j's in the past couple of weeks than I have in my whole life. Mostly because of this bread recipe.
confession 3: This song has been on repeat lately. It's a classic, you know.
confession 4: I make up recipes in my head when I can't concentrate in class. Don't worry, today in Spanish Lit when the discussion starting leaning towards the ridiculous (as it often does, remember I'm one of two girls in that class), I started writing down all of the soups I'm going to make this month. Oh yeah, that's my other confession. I plan on eating mostly soup this month. Don't deny you're jealous.
confession 5: Sometimes I look in my Mexico archives and read about the olden days. But then I start to feel a little bit depressed so I have to stop. Time to let go, McKenz. Let. Go.
confession 6: I may or may not have begun to study on a bench right outside the library because 1, it is the best place for people-watching, and 2....um, I can't tell you the other reason. This is a confession-session but it's also the world wide web, folks.
confession 7: I hate, no, loathe, the giant body pillow which Chelsea bequeathed to me for the duration of her mission. You know why? Because it is not in the shape of my body at all, nor does it contour to my shape. Did I just sound like an infomercial or what? Anyway, the point is that her body pillow has been banished to the corner of my room, far, far away from my sleeping space.
confession 8: I get the urge to jump in the leaves a lot. Soon I'm just going to give in to the impulse.
confession 9: I want to bake lots of carbs and then leave them on random people's doorsteps. The look on their faces is priceless! And so the phantom goodie season begins...
confession 10: I enjoy the weather when it's all rainy, because then I get to wear this beauty:
Ahhh. Fall is offically here. Time to relish. Oh how I love that word.
This week one of my facespace statuses (or is it stati? geesh, all of this English homework is getting to me in a bad way) said the following: "I just ate a pb&j sandwich with homemade bread and jam...does that mean I'm domesticated or poor?"
I'm pretty sure it's both. I love to cook and lately everything (not just food)has been homemade. I make my own bread, my own deodorant, my own sugar scrub, my own hair product, my own smokin' hot dates for the weekend. Oh...wait, forget that last one. That was my psyche projecting. Ha. I really need to quit hanging out with psych majors.
Today I refrained from buying the celestial kingdom in a can, a.k.a. canned pumpkin, because I know I'm just gonna buy a pumpkin and cook it. See? I think my pioneer roots are starting to creep in...or maybe I'm just a poor college student. Yeah, that's probably it.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go sew a quilt really quick before bed. It's getting a little bit chilly in here.