Mackenzie's Mishaps

It's funny. When I'm having a great week, great month... I have nothing to blog about. When the days are long and I struggle, I can't shut up. Good Lord, MacKenzie...

Today was hysterical. There! I said it! One of the best days I've had in a while, definitely my best day this week.

Here's what's up:

--I ran into a city bus' side mirror. Like, the big ass one on the side. Ran into it. With my face.

--I tried to pull a prank and when the time came, couldn't form a sentence I was already laughing so hard.

--Found out that for the entire semester, I've been going to my night class a HALF HOUR LATE. Litchrally, I am ashamed. How do you do that?! Only MacKenzie.


Today was stupid funny. And I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. I got to see a professor I don't usually get to see, I got to laugh with my favorite people, and I'm about to watch another French film (GETTING TO CLASS EARLY TODAY!) in one of my favorite classes to date.

Thursday is a good day. Yesterday I wrote about how I hoped tomorrow would be better and bring more laughs...and it absolutely did. Very thankful for that.

Cheers.

Tired.

I'm finding myself at a standstill today. I'm very anxious. Very, very nervous for what the next couple of months will hold for me.

I have been skipping classes again. Not because I think they are pointless or worthless or not important. I just can't get out of bed. That's a scary thing to admit, that some days you wake up so exhausted and sad that you choose to stay still for just a little longer, hoping the dark sort of fades away painlessly. And it never does. I have to be the one to fight it off. I can't wait and sit and stay in my house expecting the world around me to go on pause as I catch my breath. That's not how it works.... but today I wish it did. I wish I could spend my days with my walls built up like armor protecting me from all the negative shit.

I'm quitting my job. Which is exciting, yes...but also terrifying. I'm giving in my two weeks notice the second I find something else... and I'm not looking back. In this moment I'm upset, but I have been really fortunate there... It's just time to move on. Which is a source of anxiety. I wish it was a source of energy...

Something I am looking forward to is going to Chicago. My four best friends and I are going to spend St. Patrick's Day in the windy city looking at the green river drinking brews and dancing in the street. That's definitely a source of energy, something I'm looking forward to. I have so much to do before that day.... But it will be amazing, and I'm so excited to spend time in one of the greatest cities with people that make me smile.

My character was questioned recently, and my honesty was put 'on trial'... I can't get over it. I pride myself on being an honest person, and when that gets questioned I don't want to fight it... If you think my character is that of a liar...then I don't want to waste my time proving you otherwise. That's your fault. Not mine. I cannot change the happenings of my life and the random occurrances that fill my life. I understand they are extreme and the timeline of my life is full of peaks when crazy shit goes down... But, you know what? I'm trying to deal with that. That's growing up. I would never lie about a death, about a crime, about the people I love. Do not question that. Do not assume that I would ever be malicious enough to trade in what I hold dearest to get out of something for a few hours. That's not me. That never has been and never will be who I am and what I believe in.

That's all I got.

I'm in a fury of emotions, and I need to calm the eff down. But I also need to own how I feel, understand what I can and cannot change, and then move on. Life is journey. A bumpy, scary, messy big ass journey. I'm taking myself way to seriously today... so here's hoping tomorrow bring a little more laughter.

Cheers.

Paul Bunyan's an Asshole

I've realized with this blog that I go through really good highs and I go through really deep lows, and I document it all for the inter web. When I began this blog, it was very much my therapy during a rough time when I thought I needed to know every answer to every question. Hell, I thought I needed to know what the questions were before they were asked. In the four short months I've had this blog, I've realized I'm becoming comfortable with not knowing a lot of the questions. I'm working on the answers part...

In four months I've been to too many funerals, I've written about too many sad days, I've taken part in the most awkward of circumstances, and I've lived a lot of life. I'm tired today. I'm really tired. I'm not hugely upset, I'm not angry, I'm not even sad. Just tired.

Today, I was asked by a stranger in plaid, with a noticeably gorgeous beard, directions to a local street. I thought, how odd, everyone knows where Lake Ave. is... But the stranger got closer as I directed him to go 13 blocks one way and you can't miss-- gosh he's getting really close to me. He has a great beard...And then--

I'm in the snow. His hands are ripping off my bag, and I feel myself holding on tighter yelling for him to get off me. He shoves me harder. I let go out of straight up fear, screaming for help. And then the last shove... the one that I remember most because he already had what he wanted and he still did it. As I try to get to my feet, I realize I have tears in my eyes and I'm running after him. We all know I'm no runner, especially when the snow just keeps. on. falling. in this town.

So, I was robbed today. As if my life couldn't get more random and crazy and just plain stupid. It's stupid at this point how hard growing up is. What did he get from me? What was in my pottery barn shoulder bag? My books, my favorite copy of Jane Eyre, my phone, my wallet with exactly 34 cents in it, and deodorant. Good for you, dude. Standing ovation. And the best part? I'm most upset about Jane Eyre. Who am I? Luckily you can replace a book. You can replace a phone. You can replace body odor repelant.

But I'm stuck tonight, guys. Cause I can't replace the image of looking up at him and seeing the anger in his eyes as he shoved me down. It happened so fast, yet I know I get to dream about that for the next two weeks. Sometimes I'm less than thankful for my imagination, because in my dreams it will run wild.

I think the reason I'm blogging about it, the reason it seems painful, is that it's a reminder that not all people give out good. While I'm here, by no means a perfect little angel, trying everyday to be my best self... Others watch out for only themselves. That's the worst. It's by no means a pity story, it's by no means a cry myself to sleep kind of night... but I am upset that yet again the bad in life has shown itself. And in the form of a man. There have been some pretty rough times in my life where men haven't treated me the best, and I hate that today was another reminder of that. Because, on the best days, I'm surrounded by more important, noble men that I know what to do with. But today, all those emotions of being treated poorly came rushing back. It's not for me to judge another person, I don't know why he thought I should be the girl to target, but I hope finds it in himself to change.

And, in a weird way, I feel strangely like 'So what?' A girl I went to high school with just lost her dad this week. A friend of mine is pregnant. Another friend just got into a car accident. And a close friend's brother just died. And I'm sitting here licking my wounds because my favorite book and phone are out of my reach? I'm just tired. I'm tired of the lights and the smoke and the drama and the growing pains. Growing up is still fucking hard, and I feel so old when I say that. To be so young and to feel like you've lived a thousand years... there's something wrong with that. Time to not only hope Paul Bunyan the Thief changes, but that I do as well. Bad things happen, but there are worse things in the world than a stolen bag. Let's recognize the good and the bad, and celebrate the in betweens.

What I've learned: Everyone's on their own journey. Phones can be replaced. Material things mean nothing compared to health and positivity. And not all men with beards are going to treat you the way you wish to be treated. Who knew?

Cheers to the good, bad, ugly, and horrific. Cheers to hard times making you stronger. Cheers to Mama Teri Debele, who's only response was 'Whhhaat a jerrrkkkkkk.' Yes, Mama. Yes.

STRESS

[Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere.]

Worrying is not like a rocking chair, whoever decided that metaphor was important enough....

WORRYING WILL NEVER BE AS RELAXING AS THE JOY THAT COMES FROM SITTING IN A ROCKING CHAIR. HAVE YOU EVER DONE THAT?! OBVIOUSLY NOT.

Worrying is like an anchor tied to your leg that you drag around for few days before realizing that taking the fifteen minutes to struggle with the knot is better than dragging around an anchor for the whole day.

MUCH BETTER.

I'm stressing out today, hence the caps lock, and I have a mountain of a to-do list. I can't sleep well this week, I'm falling behind, and I feel like I'm getting into that phase of life where you sort of let things happen to you. I don't like that phase one bit. I want to be proactive and active and show the positivity and all that garbage which isn't usually garbage on my good days. Maybe today is just a bad day.

I have to focus, I have to accomplish my to-do list, I have to go to class. More so, I'm able to do all those things. I get to do all those things. There is an alternative, and it's failing out of college.

Each task I need to complete is an anchor that looks really heavy and scary but if I make it important for just a little while, if I spend the time to do it right, it won't be that bad. And if it is bad, if I totally hate it... I only have to spend an hour or so of my life with it before I break free from the knot. Right? Right.

Here I go. Turning this day around. Letting my stress fall to the wayside (I have no idea what a wayside is or means.... which is stressing me outtttttt. jkjkjkjk) and going one step at a time.

If you see me today, the look on my face is not anger or sadness.... just straight up 'HELP.'

Cheers to this blog, cheers to heart attacks before 30, cheers to men with beards.

American Beauty.

I by no means have ever called myself a feminist. I have many friends that would characterize themselves with that term, and I have many friends that earn that title. I'm not one of them. I don't think wanting the same things for everyone, including women, make it so I'm out of the ordinary. I'm not a feminist, I'm human. I'm just MacKenzie Jo. But... I just read something, and it wrinkled my bridges (litchrally the best term on the planet) so I need to get a little preachy here.

A friend on Facebook posted a status stating how one actress was prettier than another. He phrased it almost like a question. 'Hey remember when this chick was hotter than this other one? Me too.' A very innocent statement. A very innocent opinion he's allowed to have. I immediately typed a comment 'Remember when they both were beautiful? Me too.' But I couldn't send the rebuttal. One, I know this guy would never be cruel and I know he would never want anyone to feel lesser. Two, it's none of my business if he does or does not find someone attractive.

It does make me a bit sad though. There are people out there that don't see the beauty in me if I'm standing next to a girl who's legs go for days or who's hair is the right color. We fight, every day, men and women, to show that we belong in a world where everyone wishes for more. To be better. To be skinnier. To be in a different body because you haven't yet realized that you're exactly who you're supposed to be. And the opinions of others, no matter how innocent, can wreck you and cause you to completely reevaluate you're entire being. If we're fighting to belong, yet striving to change, we'll never stop. We'll never stop comparing two beautiful women and posting about it to see if people agree. We'll never stop double/triple checking how tight our jeans look in the mirror because we're worried people will see every fault in our bones. We'll never stop wishing for a more defined style, whatever that means.

That's not how I want to live. That's not how I want to spend my days. Most days I rather enjoy my skin. There are without a doubt things to work on, but I'd like to think the things I want to better about myself will help define my character, not my image. I don't want to worry what Boy 1 is thinking and how that differs from Boys 2-6. I want to worry about if I'm giving out good and doing my best to recognize when I get good back. That should matter more. The good in life. Not the image. Not the outward beauty... The quiet confidence after a really good meeting. The smile as you walk away from a stranger having learned something new. The ideas that fill your mind as you listen to a new song on the radio. The laughter when someone slips on ice and realizes he's not alone in the moment. That's the good stuff, that's the beauty. That's what we need to start comparing.

Example: How do you react when you fall on the ice? Really? You cry? Yeah, me too. Let's go get coffee and talk about our love of doughnuts. I THINK YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. AND YOU HAVE A BEARD.

That's my definition of beautiful. The similarities and the differences and the beards and the hilarity of embarrassing yourself. Not the tanned skinned, not the nicest clothes, not the perfect answers. We need to recognize, I'm absolutely including myself in this, we need to recognize the times when we're becoming more about image and less about character. Does it really matter if Celebrity 1 is 'hotter' than Celebrity 2...maybe for their agents, but definitely not for you. You should worry about if you're drowning in a puddle on the side of the road because you've tripped on litchrally air... if a person will save you from your embarrassment or if they will shout 'someone saw that' and keep walking by. Because that happens... or am I alone in that story....?

Cheers to the many versions of beauty, cheers to innocent opinions, cheers to snow.

MY ORDINARY ADDICTION

I watch too much television. Way too much. It's gross, it's addictive, it's everything I want to be around.  My ultimate goal, my ultimate dream is to write on a TV show and to have that show move people and make them laugh and be about life and all the crazy things that go down. And I have too many shows that I am in love with, and I need to share them with my blog. One: so that you watch them. Two: So that my feelings are shared and I'm not just sitting in my living room alone smiling like an idiot at the romance I'm watching unfold between Carson and Mrs. Hughes.... Am I RIGHT?!

1. DOWNTON ABBEY
There are many, many things about this show that make me smile. Maggie Smith is the ultimate. The time period is the ultimate. Bates and Anna, Anna and Bates, Bates Bates Bates is the ultimate. I geek out when this show comes on and you never know what's going to happen. It's one of those shows that is extremely unforgiving in that regard. They want to make good television, and if that means killing off your favorite character although she is a perfect feminist beautiful human being.... they will. And they will smirk as they do it. Because Maggie Smith and Co. don't apologize for nobody.

2. NEW GIRL
Did you see that kiss? If you have, yep. Yep. Yep. If you haven't, we don't have much to talk about, do we?

3. PARENTHOOD
I'm watching the latest episode at this exact moment and I just don't have enough words in my vocabulary to describe this show. It's everything I've ever wanted to write, it's everything I've ever wanted to watch. I love it. I think that Monica Potter is the best thing to happen to primetime television, I think that after watching this show week after week I want 19 children that all live within walking distance from me, and I think that my life is completely normal. And I love when I watch a show that makes me feel normal, instead of the usual questioning my existence at every right turn kinda thing. (And is had the best soundtrack since The OC, which yes I watched that shit and I reveled in it.)

4. ONCE UPON A TIME
Love me some fairytales.

5. COMMUNITY
I can't even talk about this one because I'm so jealous that I can only watch this show and not live it every day of my life. And I love a show that lives on based solely on fans rioting rather than piss poor marketing.

6. PSYCH
The little show that could in my eyes. It's widely popular on the USA Network, and I feel like a lot of people know about this show but they don't realize they are watching gold. And that's exactly what they are watching. GOLD. It's always the secret #1 pick for me. I used to have a competition, with myself, to see if I could get through an entire episode without audibly laughing. And I lose... every time.

7. THE LEAGUE
I don't know anything about football, but I know I want to be Jenny. That's all I know. And keep me the hell away from Taco.

8. IT'S ALWAYS SUNNY/PARKS AND REC/ RAISING HOPE
I don't need to watch these on a regular basis, but when I do... I laugh and escape for a half hour and that's a really great thing.

9. SHOWS THAT ARE NO LONGER (God Bless Netflix)
-Friday Night Lights-- there is no comparison to the love I hold for Connie Britton and Kyle Chandler, especially in khaki shorts.

-30 Rock-- Tina Fey, my spirit animal.

-24-- The best show to watch as a drinking game. Every time Jack says 'Damn it!' or 'Get me Chloe.' you DRANK.

-West Wing-- Toby. Danny Concannon. Leo. Nuff said.

-Prison Break-- you tried so hard....

-Seinfeld-- every night at dinner growing up we would watch a very small television with a very tall Michael Richards and we would laugh. I love that.


So as you can see it's an addiction. I watch a many more shows than listed as well. It's an addiction, it's a love, it's bliss. I grew up on television, and I love the stories. I blame my mother, but that's not fair. I really should blame my father... who doesn't read this blog and could care less.

Cheers to escaping, cheers to relaxing, cheers to honest writing, and cheers to jokes that make you spit up your brew. Cheers to you.

Monday, you cold hearted...

I tried very hard to make yesterday a brilliant Monday full of laughter and writing and a cute outfit and positivity.... and litchrally everything I did, everywhere I went, everyone I was around just so happened to take that Monday and flip it's on it's ass so it would be what most Mondays are... rough.

And isnt' that hysterical?! Poor me, having a bad day, WHATEVER. I think it's so funny that sometimes the universe or God or your mother gives you a reality check.

Here was my Monday:

--The boy I like text me (which woke me up) to tell me his amazing news! He's now in a relationship. So, good luck, knock her up, and I hope you're man part breaks. Whomp whomp.

--I packed a healthy, HEALTHY lunch full of green things that will go bad in two days and 100% juice products and left that shit on a counter in a bathroom and when I got out of the stall that said perfect brown bag of produce was gone. So, good luck, get food poisoning, and call me for the $15 you owe me to support my new eating healthy lifestyle. Did you know it's this expensive?

--My landlord called me to tell me that he'll be in every day this week. Now, most people would be like, wow... that's out of the ordinary. Nope, not with our guy. He comes over LITCHRALLY five days a week and typically when I'm getting out of the shower and typically just comes right in anyway. So. SUPER PUMPED for this week.

--I found out that our test in my hardest class was not next week, but Tuesday. So, MacKenzie needs some glasses.

--Along with my eating healthy 'lifestyle'/diet/idon'tgivearat'sasswhatyoucallitijustwantadoughnut, I also packed clothes to go to the gym. THE GYM!!! We have a great gym at school. It's free for students! All you need to have is your student ID..... your student ID... which was where? It was at my house.

--Walking back from the gym depressed I had a revelation that this Monday was blowing chunks all over the place. And then it dawned on me... I can turn this around. There's still time! Go to class, watch the movie, and take notes on the brilliance! EFF. We proceeded to watch the WORST movie in the history of movies with white people smearing black makeup on their faces and something about people dying at war and I don't have a clue and people were talking the whole time and I just... it was a Monday.

--After the movie, I was like... I can almost go home. NOPE. Had to stay at school for a quick meeting of sorts and thought, this is okay.. at like 7:00 I'll go home and just go to bed and wake up and study for the test. I love that no matter how bad the day, I always make a plan to survive through it. I'm thankful for that. But I went to that meeting and it was great and I'm excited and I'm leaving and I go to the bus and I see my bus pulling away and I'm thinking, Oh well, there'll be another one in a half hour. NOPE. Missed that one too. And then because God is super funny on Mondays there wasn't another bus. So I had to take a bus that would require me to walk 10 blocks instead of 1 in negative degree weather at 10:00 at night.

I LOVE MONDAYS.

It was not a good day, but it was not a bad day. I had so many emotions that when I got home I had a 13 year old girl freak out and swore a lot and I can't even remember if I cried but it's a huge possibility and that is life. Life is expecting one thing but getting another. Life is people saying stupid things and surprising you. Life is hysterical and painful and beautiful. Life's a bitch.

Cheers.

Terms of Endearment

There are a few times a week that I decide I'm going to escape my life and throw on a movie. Two nights ago was one of those nights. I had lost my phone, something I often do and am grateful for because I hate depending on text messages to make me happy. (Seriously, I suggest if you ever get tired of constantly looking at your phone... Shut it off for a week. You'll be AMAZED at how much less you care! Also, yes, I'm this vain. Go away.) But that night I really wanted to talk to my mother, and I really needed to cry. You ever have those days? It may be because I haven't cried in a weeks or so and my usual laugh to cry ratio is about 3:1.... I'm a fucking mess. Not really. Am I? Life.

Back on track. I could feel my sadness looming and the only way to break my sadness without being able to talk and laugh with my mother was to cry. So on a Saturday night I stayed in and watched one of my favorite films on this planet, Terms of Endearment. I like a wide range of films. From Free Willy to Dumbo to Congo to The Cable Guy to Trainspotting. It takes a lot for me to dislike a film. And Terms of Endearment has a lot of my favorite qualities. It has Jeff Daniels, it has Jack Nicholson, it has romance, it has laughter, and it has honesty. Holy shit balls it has honesty.

There is a scene in this movie that I watch repeatedly when I'm doubting if I want to write for a living. Shirley (MOTHA LOVING SHIRLEY) MaClaine has just yelled at the nurses in the hospital over her daughter being in so much pain. She is walking back in the hotel and she sees Jack Nicholson. You can see her exhaustion, you can see her pain, and when she hugs him and they sit on the stairs I lose it. I lose all my strength and I weep like a third grader with a skinned knee. The way she says 'Who woulda thought you were a good guy?' in that scene makes me break.

And that's why I wanna write movies. That scene. That's why I wanna be in the room to see a woman like that be a power house and to see a man like him steal my heart right outta my fingers by simply wrapping his arms around that woman.

It's my favorite scene in any movie, ever, at the moment. And I got my cry on, I got my emotions out, and I woke up the next morning not only in a much better mood, but feeling so energized and ready to start my day.

I love movies. I love that they can turn your moods around and upside down and be the best part of your day. I hope I get to say one day I helped make a film. Hell, I think I'll go make one right now. And steal every good idea out of Terms of Endearment and throw it in mine. Including Jeff Daniels... is he around?

I also watched Dumb and Dumber because of my said Jeff Daniels crush and the toilet scene still makes me almost do what he does in that scene. Shit myself.

Cheers to Jeff, cheers to Shirley, cheers to Jack, cheers to you.

A More Fascinating Name: Hope

Today I was sitting on a city bus headed towards campus. It was nighttime, so I could clearly see my reflection on the windows from the interior bus lights. And I had an out of ordinary reaction. I smiled. This huge, gaping smile as I looked at my reflection. I let my hair air dry, I didn't have a lick of makeup on, and my skin needed lotion to save it from this cold air. But I thought I looked beautiful. In an oversize sweatshirt and ratty jeans, I smiled at the thought of natural, of youth, and of owning the skin I live in.

The concept of reality has really been playing with my mind the past couple weeks. I often catch myself day dreaming and pretending to be different places doing magical, made up things. Hello, I'm seven. But my reality is Duluth. My reality is homework. My reality is bills. My reality is carbohydrates. My reality is a non-existent metabolism.

Or... is my reality living next to Lake Superior. Is my reality this picture? (I can't believe I live here...)

Is my reality writing poetry when I wake up because it makes me smile? Is my reality diving into books and movies and songs and my heart beating faster as I think about New York or Chicago or Boston? 

I think it's both. I hope it's both. I'm left tonight dreaming for more but being content with what I have...which is a very funny feeling indeed. I don't know if the wanting ever stops. If when you find that Mr. Right he'll take away the selfish, or when you get the perfect job you'll want for nothing... I just know that I feel blessed yet I yearn for elsewhere, and sometimes that makes me sad. I want it to make me feel strong, like when I look at my plain Irish skin and smile... I want to live in my own skin with my own flaws and my own content. 

Ahhhh! Content. That is what I want. See? Want. Want want want. Take take take. 

I'm talking myself out of thinking I'm this gorgeous specimen, so I'm going to stop typing now. 

Am I alone in this? Does the wanting ever become exhausting? Does the content ever take over and make you finally shut up and smile? 

Cheers to city buses, cheers to that picture reminding me of warmer days, and cheers to you.