I'm a valentine grinch.

Valentine's Day is past.

**DISCLAIMER: this is a rant/realization**

I am finding balance in my emotions concerning that day.

This year, I saw my own hypocrisy in action. I saw how silly it was to be a cynic.

Admittedly, I can easily be cynical. It's a blessing and a curse, and I know I should be more prone to see the good in others.

The most annoying people during valentines are the people who whine about how corporate and stupid Valentines is. I was kinda one of those people.


But then I began to realize: despite it being a "hallmark holiday" and "mainstream" (yep, I'm gonna admit that mainstream things don't hold much weight for me), it's a perfect excuse to go above and beyond in saying to someone, "hey, you mean a lot to me."
It doesn't even have to be a huge effort. It can take all of 5 minutes to write a note.

You don't even have to have a romantic "valentine". You can still do something sweet for someone else.
I realized that if I think v-day is dumb, I shouldn't whine about it to others and I shouldn't try to ruin their fun.
Why turn down a day to celebrate love?

Next year, I shan't complain so loudly or audibly about the dumb corporations trying to dictate what and when I show love to someone.

...I still think that heart shaped balloons with feathers are horribly tacky, as are giant stuffed bears holding hearts, and those faux-roses that light up.

I can do without this

or this

ESPECIALLY NOT THIS. Balloon+ a random couple, or another picture... either way, it's bizarre.

...but that's personal preference.

Valentine's is a cultural tradition.

And honestly, deep down, I do enjoy it.

I love the flowers and the chocolates and the feeling of knowing I'm loved.


Also, right now, I'm so into bands that look like wandering vagrants.


Of Monsters and Men
Avett Brothers
Mumford and Sons
Imagine Dragons
Mat Kearney
....what gives?

thought closet

I do wish thoughts could be more neatly organized. You see, I have a great many things swirling around my mind. I suppose it's better than the alternative...

During school, all of my ponderings get pushed back into an imaginary closet.

I must focus on subjects that somewhat/mildly/wildly interest me, and there's not a great deal of time for daydreaming.


Can you remember when you were younger, say 6 or 7 years old...

trying to clean your room because your mother told you to,

and you stuff everything on the floor into your closet?

(Okay, maybe you didn't do that. 

I wasn't really allowed to do that, but it didn't stop me from trying.)

I would end up pushing and leaning against the closet door, willing all of the miscellaneous items to squeeze in, waiting for that magical click of the latch securing.

Stepping away from the closet with a happy sigh, I saw another thing that I needed to stuff into the closet.

...because putting it back where it belongs is just silly. 

So, I made the error of reopening the closet door.

A pile of stuff flopped out. A horrid mess.

At that point, one of my parents would peek in to check my cleaning progress and tell me to clean up the right way. In a way that allows me to find my favorite toys when I would want them and allows for me to have clothing to wear.

Silly me.

Anyways, that's the current status of my thoughts.
I've squished them all together in an imaginary thought closet, and voila!

I'm all good, or so I think.

Until that figurative door pops open for whatever reason and I'm filled yet again with ideas and questions, in a greater volume and even more jumbled up than before.

It's dreadful.

I may have to become a semi-regular blogger again, just to get all of that thinking-ness out of my system.
Or blogging might make it worse.
I'm not quite sure.

Anywho, the current state of affairs is that I should be sleeping/reviewing notes for tomorrow but instead, I'm sitting and pondering a great many things, and, of course, typing about thinking about a great many things.

I'll leave you with a few quotes about love from a few of my favorite authors

(since it is valentine's day, officially.)

 “Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess.” 
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid
“You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.” 
― Oscar Wilde

“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and a richness to life that nothing else can bring.” 
― Oscar Wilde

“Love is not a product of reasonings and statistics. It just comes-none knows whence-and cannot explain itself.” 
― Mark Twain

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.” 
― Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

“In love, as in life, one misheard word can be tremendously important. If you tell someone you love them, for instance, you must be absolutely certain that they have replied "I love you back" and not "I love your back" before you continue the conversation.” 
― Lemony Snicket

Stress Sandwiches. Or Seas of Stress

Some days, I'm not exactly sure what I've been eating, because it feels like I have eaten a stress sandwich.
Let me explain this "stress sandwich", in case you wonder what kind of nutjob I am.

not LITERALLY

Going down, it's not so bad. I ingest a myriad of tasks, making notes of them in my planner. I feel like it's no big deal, and I'll get through everything just fine.

Once it hits my stomach however, I feel it...

THE STRESS.

The tightly wound feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, and I feel overwhelmed.

Sometimes there comes a point where I don't even want to function, but instead sit somewhere, trying to numb the discomfort by doing something mindless:
pinning stuff on pinterest,
learning new music,
*cough*...blogging *cough*

...forgetting that by doing nothing to work on my list, I'm only letting the stress build.

I've experienced quite a bit of stress over the past few days, trying to cope with understanding several concepts, getting things turned in on time, and preparing for exams (I hate the word "exam")

And then come complications.

A few social stresses were thrown in there too, for good measure.

It wasn't like a sudden hit, but more the rising tide, creeping up until I felt I couldn't tread water any longer.

Right as I felt I was about to go under, something happened.

Amidst my sea of stress or digestion of a sandwich, (I'm mixing up analogies now. I'm sorry, just pick your favorite) I heard a voice.

Not audibly, but a heart whisper, if you know what I mean. More like a thought came into my mind that I knew wasn't mine.

Here's what I heard:

"I won't let my faithful one see decay" 

WHAT.

I had no idea how this tied into my circumstance, and I was ready to dismiss it as a random thought (I have plenty of those) but this phrase repeated itself again and again, vying for my attention, it seemed. I'd be working on a task, and there was the phrase:

"Nor will I let my holy one see decay" 

This line played in my head. Completely out of the blue.

I know this sounds bizarre, but bear with me.

How did this tie into my life and why couldn't I put that phrase out of my mind?

I was just dealing with life stresses. Everyone has to deal with those.
I was sure that I just needed to grow a thicker skin and buy more sticky notes (sticky notes = super organized).

But this line peaked my interest (and it repeatedly came to mind). A google search of the phrase showed that the line came from Psalm 16, so I started reading it.

And this, my dear reader, is where my stress started turning into praises.

I got the coolest shiver.

IT WAS JUST THE SOLUTION I NEEDED. 

I can't describe how excited this made (and makes) me:

Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure...
I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

And the portion that popped into my head:

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
 nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

I am very sure I have shared this verse before, but it's not like I've memorized it (though I know I should)
It is a confirmation to me that I do have the Holy Spirit to comfort and instruct me just when I need it -- crazy and amazing as that is.

It is a confirmation that the Lord counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me.

Things like this, small as they may seem, are the things that bolster my faith. I hope that someday my faith will be so strong that I remember to rely wholly on God, and not my own weak inabilities to "get things done" and be "competent".
And maybe next time, I won't try to ignore that persistent little voice. If I had read the passage sooner, it would have saved me the stress.

I am by no means one of the people who is always right on track and spiritually in-tune. I have a long ways to go; I have pleentyyy of struggles. I often wonder why God is so gracious and forgiving to me.

But this was one small instance that was incredibly encouraging to me, so I thought I should share it as encouragement for you.

If you've got God on your side...
He is not going to let you see decay.
He'll help you swim out of that sea of stress (or digest that stress sandwich).
On top of that, He's going to give you joy and security.

You will not be shaken. 

abandonment.

I've kinda abandoned the blog.
This post isn't about my own feelings of such.


So sorry, little blog.

It was unintentional, and while I've had plenty of good rants and observations built up, I have yet to post them.

I HAVE AN AMAZING STORY. But it will get posted later, because it needs a little work (e.g. I have to type it) 

I turned 20 (TWENTY!) one week ago, and while I know it is silly (especially to older people) to feel that this is a big change, it is a big change for me.
Not. A. Teenager. Any. More.

This was somewhat upsetting, but I am coping.

School is consisting of 18 hours of credit work, which I am finding to be manageable, AND all of my classes are interesting (which makes a big difference in manageability)

But it is only the second week, so I shouldn't speak too soon.

And I have had a lovely sort of surprise.
This semester, I am taking Organic Chemistry 1.
I heard horror stories.
I went in apprehensively.

BUT OH MY.
I love it.

I like drawing organic structures. It is like a fun puzzle.

But again, it is only the second week of classes.
We're still in review/baby steps mode. (and maybe I'm hyping it up a little bit to convince myself I can make an A)

I have recently had my suspicions confirmed that my thing is science.

I'm also getting to be a TA for the Intro to Nutrition course.
PAPER GRADING, YAY!

I am excited, though when I was grading sample papers, I found out that I was a harsh grader.

It just seems to me that once someone is IN COLLEGE, they should be able to use some form of acceptable syntax and KNOW when a sentence is run-on. They need to recognize subject verb agreement. They should know when they are making no sense.

...apparently not.
I'm a grammar freak. Even though I know that my own writing is rife with mistake, I can easily spot error in the work of others. It's terrible.

I'm a hypocrite.

I will try to relax my grading standards. It IS Intro to Nutrition and NOT an English class.
...I might still highlight mistakes so that the student is aware that I'm aware that they need to fix that.

Traditions

Oh me.
Christmas time is here!

While there are plenty of fantastic traditions associated with Christmas, anticipations, showings of love, present buying, remembering the important things of life, this time of year also holds a particular trend for me:

I get sick.

(...I feel that I have posted more about being sick on this blog than anything else.

This is partly due to the fact that when I am sick, there is little else for me to do save sleep, watch movies, read, or stare at the walls and ceiling. After a while, those tasks become tedious and I turn to typing out things.
The reasons for this typing habit I am yet unsure of. But I know I like the clickity-clack of my keyboard and the feeling of accomplishment that comes from "officially posting" something. I can't do much else productive, so this is therapeutic.)

Almost every Christmas, I have come down with something.

This year it is the flu and a sinus infection.

It all started last Sunday...I'll spare you the details. It has not been a very fun week, but I will say that I now have antibiotics, which should heal me up nicely.

There is one little downside to said antibiotics: they completely remove my appetite.

The thought of food is off-putting, which is unfortunate, since it is important to life/health, and doubly unfortunate, because this is the time of year when all the scrumptious treats and goodies are made.

But even amid the sickness and not feeling well, Christmas is here, and it is heartwarming family time. I am reminded of how richly blessed I am.

Perhaps I just needed to spend a week or two sleeping after this semester. 

Lover of books. Books, books, books.

A few months ago, I was posting about being allergic to my book collection.
I didn't get rid of my books.

...I still have said collection, and it's growing.

I love books.

Some people say this, but I realllly do.

I often prefer reading a book to watching a movie. In books, the reader gets to decide just what everyone and everything looks like, whereas in movies, you get to see what Hollywood and the director dictates.

...maybe it's a control issue for me. I want everything to look the way I imagine it, which is more than anyone could put on a screen.

 Either way, my bibliophila is a small problem.


I should never ever go into book stores, especially used book stores where good deals can be had.
Yesterday I found 8 books (and some of them were compilations -- meaning, even more books for my money!)
A few of them were gorgeously bound hardbacks. I am a sucker for a beautifully bound novel, especially if it's a classic.

The stack of yet unopened and unread books, just waiting to be devoured, is exciting.

Something to tack on awkwardly at the end of this post:
I have been noticing that I am starting to read some novels just for the writing style. It's almost like a form of music, to read beautifully crafted prose. Oscar Wilde is a perfect case of this. When I read The Picture of Dorian Grey, I was not fond of the storyline, but I enjoyed how well the book was written. I've started to read other things by Oscar Wilde just for the fact he was so clever and good at writing.

What on earth is happening to me? Am I growing up?

Someday, maybe, possibly, hopefully, I will achieve that similar ability to weave descriptions and dialogue so my reader feels they are right in the situation with me.

I'm sure you know this, but, not all prose is good prose. I have read some badly written published work.
Question: HOW DO SOME RAGS GET PUBLISHED??

When I tried to read Twilight (yeah, yeah, everyone ribs on Twilight, but I am serious), I couldn't get over the bad syntax.

Maybe I should have gone through that "book" with a red marker and sent it back to the publisher. Instead, I got halfway through and decided it was not worth the time. I wish I could write something halfhearted and hokey, get it somehow (magically?) published, and rake in the millions!
.
...but so does everyone, I am sure.

If I had mailed the marked-up book in, maybe I could have gotten a job as an editor!

Now, that would be a fun job.


I'm afraid that I'm turning into a book snob. Oh dear.

Finding Sanctuary

I have been feeling far away from God.

I've been feeling like maybe I'm not really usable, like I am not good enough for being useful.
 I have been tired, stressed, and sick off and on -- still, no excuse.

GRUMP = Makenzie.

I've given in to my selfishness a few too many times, which means I am not fun to be around. I didn't even like myself.
You'd think I'd get it, go to God, and sort it out.

But this thing hung over me like a thick fog. 

I had gone to a few on-campus outreach events, and I got nothing. 
How could I? I was wrapped up in me.

I was feeling like a very bad Christian.

I was getting to the point of thinking I was hopeless.

Recently, the story of the Prodigal came up. (It's from Luke 15)
You may be familiar with this parable.
I know I am, I've heard it a dozen times at least.

A father has two sons: the younger wants his inheritance and wants to leave his family behind.
The father gives him what he wants and the son goes on his merry way.
The money disappears as the son spends the inheritance on frivolities.
A famine hits the land he's in.
He gets a job.
Feeding pigs is his new occupation. (and pigs were highly unclean to the audience -- they were considered to be just nasty)
He is so hungry, he wants to eat pig slop.
The son realizes his father's servants have it better working for his dad than he does feeding pigs, so he sets off to see his dad to beg for a job.

NOW, this is what hit me:
The son was approaching the father's estate, but he was still far off. 
While he was still far off, his father saw him. He must have been looking for his son.
The father ran to his child.
He wrapped his arms around his son.
He kissed him.

This son is probably nasty from feeding pigs/his journey.
He has nothing. He had insulted his father by saying he wanted his inheritance, which meant his father was dead to him.
His plan was just to beg for a servant's job.
If I were that son, I'd be heading over -- head down, shuffling forward: mortified and full of shame.


I would be embarrassed, rehearsing an apology, hoping it would work to get me some semblance of compassion. 

But his father ran to him. The son didn't even say anything.

After his father hugged him, the son fell at his feet and apologized saying he would gladly work as a servant if it were possible.

But the father gave him the family crest and declared the son was his son and that it was time to rejoice.

The imagery that comes with that makes me feel a deep emotion because I'm getting it.

I have heard this story countless times; I thought I had gotten all I needed from the story.

annnd, I was wrong.

I was just in that spot of realizing that I needed God.

I am admittedly a horrible human being without Him; I don't like who I become when I'm not walking with Him. I'm prideful, whining...well, let's not go there.

I realized how much I needed to reconnect.

So, I was slowing edging towards Him, full of remorse, but not sure how to go about making it all right.

I was far off.

And HE RAN TO ME. 

He embraced me.

I experienced a relief, like when you've been holding your breath underwater and you surface, gulping in fresh air.

Or when you've been out working in the sweltering heat, and you get a glass of ice-cold lemonade and sit in the shade.

That ahhh feeling.


The thought that God runs to us, embraces us, and declares us as HIS, even when we've taken our inheritance and run off, even when we have been pretending like He doesn't matter, is huge.
When we come back, He accepts us.

It's not like He halfheartedly saves, or barely saves us, all the while despairing at how much we screw up.

When we are His, He goes above and beyond, enveloping us in acceptance because He loves us that much.

That kind of love is not like anything else. It is inexplicable...I could try to describe it, but I wouldn't do it justice. It's joy-bringing.

space cadet.

Ideas, inspiration, thoughts, and issues all cloud my mind, competing for attention.

This may sound sad, but I can easily be entertained. Maybe my standard of entertainment is low.

Once, I did a traffic count for the DOT. I sat on a street corner for 2 hour intervals, counting pedestrians and bikes. (hey, it was good money)

If anything could be boring, it's sitting still for hours.
It wasn't a busy intersection, but I was strangely okay with that sort of sitting still. I was lost in thought, appreciating the surroundings, and counting the few who used the intersection.

I'm not saying I would make that my JOB, but I was able to do it.

I've rarely ever been legitimately bored.
This lack of boredom is something my parents instilled; if I ever complained about being bored, they could find me a task. Sometimes it was entertaining, a craft or a project; other times it was extra chores. I appreciate that they taught me to never allow myself to be bored.

I've trained my mind to occupy itself with ponderings all the time. I like to take on projects.

A downside to always having something to mentally munch on: your mind gets full to overflowing with thought.
Thank God for the invention of writing! Otherwise, my brain would most likely explode.

Another downside to this sort of over-thinking: it is so easy to be a space cadet, absentmindedly floating in one's own world.
It has been embarrassing on a few occasions, because I have found out later that I saw someone I knew, made eye contact even, without even realizing it.
How mortifying.  
I should work on that sort of awareness. I really don't want to come off as rude.

So, if you do see me and I'm not at least smiling at you, please do something to get my attention and pull me out of my thoughts.

...I'm already well on my way to becoming an absent-minded professor.

That time where I learn not to put things off.

This week?
Oh my.
It has been a rollercoaster.

I had the most wonderful break, and then reality set in on Monday: I had a report to write.
I thought it would be a cakewalk.

No sweat, type the thing up in a few hours, submit it, and be on my merry way.

Not so. This thing was daunting.

I ended up attempting to stay up all night writing.
Once you reach a certain point...

(and realize how UTTERLY DULL your subject matter is)

YOUR BRAIN SHUTS OFF.

If it was anything I had a passion for, I could have stayed up all night. As it was a subject most dull to me (titration) I couldn't get excited.
Because I have in the past been able to stay up all night working on projects and feel fine the next day, I thought it would be a tolerable experience.

This experience was terrible.
Pretty much the worst.

Everything within me screamed sleep, but I made myself stay awake, thinking that perhaps if I could only keep my eyes open, I would be able to write something, anything, coherent.
Sound theory.

Riiiight.

At some point, I dozed off and woke up freaking out -- it was only an hour later. The clock read 3:30 am. I gave in to the urge to sleep, making myself wake up at 6 to try to hit the keys on my keyboard some more.

Because that's pretty much all it was: me banging on the keys.

But I survived. I MADE myself function all day Tuesday.
I was worthless.
I never want that to happen again. I felt the absolute worst I have felt in ages. It was like my brain was seriously impaired.
I hope I learned my lesson.

It was by God's grace that I was able to even write anything to submit.


SPEAKING of writing: I have exciting news.
This kinda makes my day in a strange way.
I, the girl with has little confidence in her own writing ability, am going to grade papers for a class next semester.
I am SO excited!
Proofreading (other people's work) is a favorite hobby.

listing of incoherent thought

Just one quick post.
One quick post and I'll go and be productive.
Seriously.

I have a few things I really need to work on, but blogging is therapeutic.
I may not be able to write a stellar lab report or paper, but at least I can write something to make me happy.

Life is rushing by at an incredible pace; terribly cliche, I know.
But it's true.

I'll be 20 in a little over a month.

20. Two DECADES.

ONE FIFTH OF A CENTURY.

There are so many things I should have accomplished by this point in my life.
I can't be a child genius! Missed opportunity. When you're a kid, and you say something smart or "profound", people think you're amazing.

I suppose, accomplishments are arbitrary when you look at them in the light of, well, forever.

I didn't get quite everything done that I would have liked over break, but that wasn't the point. The point of break was to just be.
I took time to appreciate the luxury of not having a thing in the world that had to be done.
It was a fantastic release. Stress melted. I was silly. I had fun.

I am pretty good at running around and doing stuff, which makes sitting still a luxury, because I can always seem to think of something I need to do.

I really don't understand people who claim to be bored. There is always something to do, ponder, create, talk about...

REALITY CHECK

...it is Monday, and I'm realizing that I really should have been studying a little bit while on break.
But I didn't.
Oh bother. 
If you're in school, please don't follow my example.

I dreaded going back to class today.
But there was the silver lining: THE GYM
How I love that place. I can work out until my frustration and stress disappears and endorphins come to wash away stress.

Bonus of this stress-management technique: I'll probably hopefully be in great shape.

As it is, Chemistry is calling me.
Chemistry is a really needy subject.
If it were a person, and we were dating, I would have dumped it by now.
It demands so much of my time. 
It is full of theories that are both true and untrue, depending on what suits your fancy.
It can be volatile, deadly even.
It has so many silly rules and laws.
It loves naming things after dead people [morbid]. 
But if I can get along with Chemistry, life will be much better.
Because I know, deep down, that Chemistry is my bag, and it's what I'm going to major in, one way or another.

In High School, I had puppy love for the subject. But just as a relationship changes and matures out of the puppy love stage, into something deeper (though hard to handle), now is the time when I have to make this thing work out.

It isn't a picnic...

Enough incoherency for one day.
 Also, these pictures are ones I took while hiking. They also make me happy. It's fall, y'all!

Goals during the giving of thanks

I am so excited for Thanksgiving break.
I have ONE MORE DAY of classes, and then I get a blissful 5 days of vacation.
I am going to study some, of course *wink*, but I have a list of things I really want to do. {Beyond eating an insane amount of food that makes the nutrition-major in me shudder.}

• I really want to explore a place. A town, a landscape, I'm not quite sure. But I want to take my Nikon and capture stuff on film (or a digital media card, whatever)

• I want to play music on my uke and guitar until my fingers want to fall off.

• I want to write and write. It's like an itch. I'll write a short story, a novel, a letter  ...I don't even know...probably a chemistry lab report will be in there somewhere...

• I want to read a book just for fun. I have not done this in what feels like ages. This is because I do not have the self discipline to put down a book when I am totally engrossed in it. ...though my reading material will probably be about people who live in the Philippines and describe their migration patterns over time. I'll pretend that it's fun reading (yay, anthropology class)

• I want to spend quality time with those I love. 'nuff said.

• I want to be totally organized. While I know where things are, and I have a semblance of organization...I'd love for everything to have a nice little home and look all nice and OCD-ish. {note that I am not OCD. I am only really picky about everything being uber-tidy when I am about to be really sick. It has happened on more than one occasion, right before a bad bout of strep and also before a case of the swine flu, and before other various viruses. Perhaps my cleaning sprees are good indicator of when I'm sick. ...or maybe my body is allergic to cleaning...}

These are my goals for my short reprieve from school. Maybe they'll all happen, we shall see.