One Hundred Posts, Baby!

'Tis my 100th post. I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to write.

Is it supposed to be profound? Funny? Reminiscent? Maybe all three?

When I first started this blog, it was an outlet for recording outrageous college experiences. I figured if I started a blog for that sole purpose, outrageous things would happen to me.

And so they did.

Instead of giving you a big fat recap of everything, I decided to make it a little purtier.
I decided that I will be posting a heck of a lot more....
As in, once or twice a week.
Maybe a day?

My creative juices are flowing like a class 5 rapid right now.
So I shall succumb, like I always do.

Instead of writing your favorite memory of me/blog post in the comment section, I would prefer that you let your creative-ness run free.

So

write a poem
an original joke
a really really short story (flash fiction)
something in a different language
your favorite food and why
a dream you've had
the perfect day
a creative goal
your idea of beautiful

*mucho amor, mcfrenzy*

p.s. i haven't quite figured out how to make the comment button a different color, so click on the title of this post to see it betta.

M.I.A.

On April 17th, my car died.

On May 16th, the cord which breathes life into my computer took its last breath.

On May 17th, my jump drive was abandoned in the library.

On May 17th, my I-Card refused to mesh with the printers in the library. Fail.

As of right now, I am a ghost.

And really, my friends, that is kind of sad. I should exist without technology.
And I do.

P.S. my phone hasn't died yet. YET. Pray for the life expectancy of my phone to be extended.

Then go listen to this song. It will heal what ails you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=406Se3xPTqQ

If you need me, I'll be in my happy place:

saturday so far.

It is Saturday morning.

My body clock went off today at 9 am, so even though I started my REM cycle at 2am, I got up.

First thing I did was run 4 miles and in doing so, acquired the two FATTEST blisters ever. On each of my feet. Sorry about that superlative.

It was graphic.

Last night the waiter at Red Robin convinced me that my 20 dollar bill I used to pay for my bowl of chili was counterfeit. And that they had had to shred it.

I was running through my mind where I had gotten it.

“ATM machine? Bank? Babysitting? Ahh! What if it’s stolen? How would they know?”

Then he shot me a sly smile and said, “Just kidding!” Oh, man. Thanks for nothing, Mr. Waiter Man.

But it was a good prank.

It is going to be in the 70’s for awhile, just like the month of May should feel like.

Wait, you didn’t know it was May?!

BUT

Right now I have a few things on my mind besides the weather and chili.

Coconut almond fudge ice cream from the BYU-Creamery.

Wanting to run away to the mountains for a weekend.

Problem: Car’s starter has fizzled out and died. Car is full of gas.

This is also known as irony.

The Oregon Coast. Always. Siempre.

Saying my prayers in Spanish and hoping I am not saying anything like “Please forgive me of my fish…I mean sins.” (In Spanish, pescado=fish, pecado=sin)

80’s movies like The Karate Kid. The Outsiders. Better off Dead. Remember those?

Or are you trying to forget?

Eyeing the pile of laundry I have yet to throw in the washer.

Maybe Monday. Ha.

But what will I wear to the ward activity in 20 minutes?

Chubby babies.

Mexico. 7 more months.

Manti. Did you know it was awesome?

Butter. I'd like to hug whoever thought of that one.

Lotion on alligator legs. Ahh, yeah.

The moon when it's sitting on the rooftops.

Dave Matthews Band.

Missionaries. Oh my word. Isaac. Home. In. Three. Months.

What?

One more picture for your enjoyment.

Oh yes, I just did.

That little huge red thing…it’s my blister. The 1.3 megapixels on my computer

Don’t do it justice.

Have a lovely weekend.

in which I am k.o.'d by my allergies

This week has been a boxing match between me and my allergies. Every morning since Monday I have woken up feeling like an anvil got dropped on my face. Welcome, Spring. I forgot to mention my new job, my other 16 credits of class, exercising, and...oh yeah, a social life. If only I knew what one of those felt like.

So when mom called me and left me the message, I knew I wouldn't be hard to convince. She said something along the lines of, "Hey Kenz, I wondered if you got your textbook. And we would love it if you could come home for Mother's Day. I know you don't have a car but you could get a ride... And I want to give you food, and you can talk to Isaac, and..." So basically, her voice was the equivalent of a puppy's eyes when you're holding that last piece of steak and....you know?

In a little more than 24 hours, I'll be there.

image courtesy of flickr.com

Scared in Spanish Class (and other first week adventures)

For those of you who read my father's blog (I like to say "father" when I'm far away from him. Same with "mother."), you know that getting to Rexburg was a bit of a challenge. I'm guessing that was just a little test to see if I really wanted to go to school this semester, meaning that it's going to ROCK, right? Once Sister Beck was speaking at a Women's Conference, and she said that absolutely nothing had gone right in the planning of the conference. Then she said that because of all the trials they had experienced, she knew it would be a really good conference. She got it! I think I get it!

Yesterday was the first day of class and the first devotional. There's something about being back in this place that gives me new energy.

The sun has been shining (I say "has been" because it's raining now) since Saturday, so I have been wearing a skirt since then. The last time I was in Rexburg, it was far below zero and I was wearing up to four layers.

I keep seeing people I know and smiling and talking with them, and every time I go to a new class, I get a little too excited.

I hold up my scriptures in devotional and realize I'm in the right place.

We start my English class with a prayer and I think writing a jillion papers won't be so bad.

I go to the Reading Center and find out I will be helping students write papers, and I think I'm going to need to work on my writing skills.

I walk into Spanish 321 (also lovingly referred to as "return-missionary Spanish") a few minutes late and am faced with about 35 return missionaries and 5 girls, including myself. I start to feel really intimidated, especially when the teacher (who is speaking in Spanish, of course. I should have known!) makes a joke and everyone laughs except for me, who is still intimidated. Uhh, no hablo español?

I am dubbed the official "scribe" of the apartment (4th semester in a row...) and start writing down quotes like crazy. The toll as of day four? 29. There's not enough closet door for the funny things we say at this school or overhear. Here's a sampling (heard in British Literature from the professor, who says he tries to speak French and it doesn't end well):

[takes place at Broulim's grocery store]
Bro. Brugger: Hi, I'd like a croissant [French accent].
Bakery dude: A what? Ohhhhh, a crescent!!!
What, are we in Idaho or something?

I go to Women's Health and am challenged by the 60-something year old teacher to a game of tennis. Then she adds, "You probably won't want to play with me." What? Did I just get beaten by a 60-something year old without even playing her? I think I did. Welcome.

I stay up late to help my old roommate Courtney move into her new apartment. We attempt to put those riser-things under her bed (instead of the much more dangerous cinder blocks, which have failed me before in mid-sleep), and I am doing the upside-down turtle underneath her mattress as we make the attempt. Pretty soon half of the bed flops, and I'm basically trapped, but I am laughing my head off. She can't hear me say I'm OK, so she screams for her friends to come help me. I re-surface laughing (what's left of) my face off.

I sit in my Doctrines of the Gospel class and hear the professor say that he wishes everyone was required to take his class, because it's that amazing. He said that the Book of Mormon/New Testament/Old Testament classes "skim the surface" of the doctrines, which is good, but this class will be a "deep dive." Hey, I can swim.

I look out my window before I go to bed and see the temple lit up on the hill, and make plans to go every week. I remember some of the temple workers, but will they remember me?

I'm in Rexburg. Again. No camera yet, but I'm using visual imagery. Is it working for you? Pictures soon, I promise.

By the way, this picture is photo-shopped. There isn't field with a barn below the Taylor. There's a giant construction site. So maybe they wanted to cover it up? There are fields like that in Rexburg, but not on campus.

Bob Dylan+Ballet in the Basement

Yeah, I alliterated. Is that even a word?

Yesterday I was folding laundry in the basement with Ellie and asked her if she wanted to pick a CD from dad's collection. She picked out Bob Dylan's best record (that's what I think anyway), "Blood on the Tracks."

I asked, "Bob Dylan? You wanna listen to Bob Dylan?"
Ellie says, "Yeah!! Bob Dylan! I loooove him!"

As "Tangled Up in Blue" came on the speakers, she began to pull off her increasingly skillful ballet moves across the floor. I bet you didn't think Bob Dylan could mix with the likes of tutus and pliés, did you.

Right now, I'm sitting next to another pile of folded laundry, Caleb on one side, Ellie on the other. Caleb is starting to sing along with "She was born in spring but I was born too late, blame it on a simple twist of fate." How many 8-year-old boys do you know that sing those lines (with a pretty high pitch too, mind you)?

When I asked Ellie if she wanted to listen to Mr. D. again, she jumped up and down, then started to warm up with some piqués and twirls.

Kids.

You Know the World's In Trouble When...

...people start thinking like this.