Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A month ago, I was at the Verizon store upgrading the relic that was once my cell phone for the latest and greatest iPhone. While I was waiting, I saw this mom with her 10 year old-ish daughter, waiting around while the guy who was helping her was in the back (my theory is that the cell phone guys all get together in the break room and play ping-pong while they are "checking something with their manager"). So, I'm sitting here staring awkwardly this at this mom and daughter when, out of the blue, they embraced and all of a sudden, BAM, I want kids.

What the what? Kids have always made me nervous. There's only 3 1/2 years between me and my little brother, so I was never around super young siblings. Yeah, I babysat, but that was different...and I wasn't very old when I stopped babysitting. Kids just made me feel awkward- mostly little kids. I've never had a problem with the older variety. A few years ago I was asked to be a primary teacher at church and I just about had a panic attack. 2 hours every Sunday with half a dozen 6 year olds was very intimidating. But, I jumped in there and actually fell in love with those little buggers. Babies, though, whoo, babies made me even more uncomfortable than children. Fortunately though, my sister had a baby and my fear of them was quickly squelched after I realized it was really hard to kill them.

Let's be clear, I was never intentionally trying to kill babies, I was just under the impression that they were super breakable. After my nephew barfed straight down my shirt twice in a row though, I figured he must be made of tougher stuff than I originally gave him credit for, and we've been buddies ever since. Except when it comes to poopy diapers. He's on his own with that one.

The point is, I always figured that I'd have kids one day and it would be great, but I've never necessarily been baby hungry. Now, though, I get a lump in my throat if I'm watching something and a baby starts crying. For example, last week I rented "Thor" from Redbox- there's this part where Anthony Hopkins picks up this alien baby that's crying. By the grace of Anthony Hopkins, the alien baby suddenly transforms into a human baby, looks deeply into Tony's eyes, and stops crying. I was really confused though, because while the baby's face became calm, the crying had only gotten louder. And that's when I realized it wasn't the baby crying, it was me. Who am I?!

It doesn't even have to be babies, necessarily. I live across the street from an elementary school and when I go running in the mornings, I'm usually surrounded by hoards of little kids on their way to school. Despite the fact that I've got my music cranked up in my ears and I'm self-concious that my shorts are riding a little high, I find myself getting distracted by how cute these little kids are, wondering if they have happy lives, wanting to hug the one that's walking alone with his head down. Then suddenly, I've got a lump in my throat and I want to take them to my house and bake them all cookies filled with love and sprinkles.

Just kidding. I don't have any sprinkles.

Ugh, it's just the weirdest feeling though. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I thought a career would fulfill me, but I'm finding that the only thing that's truly fulfilling is your family and the people you fill your life with. Since my family lives in Arizona and I'm living on my own and usually hanging out solo, I've come to realize that most experiences just aren't as awesome as they could be if you had someone to share them with. I think it's taken "having it all" to realize that maybe "it" just isn't enough.

Don't get me wrong though- I'm happy with my life. I mean, really, when else am I going to be able to walk around my house naked and not worry about who sees me?


Tuesday, April 3, 2012

This post contains movie spoilers so please, do not continue if you have not yet seen the movie "One Day" and would prefer not to have the ending ruined (but really, its not like you couldn't see it coming from a mile away).

So, I watched "One Day" last night (finally), and while I initially got choked up at the end and may, or may not, have yelled at my television in futility, I have come to the conclusion that this film is absolute crap. Let's recap, shall we? This movie is about a guy and a girl who meet in college in the 80's; they almost hook up but end up just sleeping together (literally) and from that, a friendship blossoms. As the film progresses, it catches up with the two characters every year on the same day that they originally met. The girl mostly suffers with a lack of career and a boyfriend who belongs in the side-show of a circus. The guy becomes rich, famous, and promiscuous while the girl works in a dive restaurant and is pathetically insecure. Eventually, the guy gets engaged (because his girlfriend got pregnant) and the girl continues on living the single life after finally dumping her lame boyfriend.

In the middle of all of this, it is revealed that the girl has been in love with the boy since college- before they even almost hooked up- and the guy reveals that he has felt the same way. Surprise, surprise, the guy tells the girl that he doesn't want to pursue a relationship with the her because he knows that if they start something, it will mean the end of his partying-and-sleeping-around ways and he's "not ready" for that.

Yadda, yadda, yadda, they finally get married (after like, 15 years) and over the next couple of years, you find out that they are happily married but have been unsuccessful at getting pregnant. And then she gets hit by a bus while riding her bike.

Are you freakin kidding me?!

Here's my issue with this movie: the ending focuses on the guy's pain and suffering over losing his wife, but what about all of the pain and suffering she had to endure for years before the guy finally gets over himself and grows up, not to mention the agony of not being able to get pregnant? He's a complete jackass- to her, to his dying mother, to everyone who knows him- and yet he gets to spend most of the movie rich, drunk, and with some hot piece. Yeah, some crap stuff happens to him, but he deserves it. Girlfriend, on the other hand, is working hard for the money and continues to put up with and even console the guy, and yet she gets stuck with a horrible job, being perpetually single except for a brief stint with a creeper boyfriend, frizzy hair, infertility, some unfortunate sartorial choices, and death by bus?! I think the writer hates women.

Why is this movie burning me up so bad? I think it's because I know one too many dudes like the one in the movie. The movie glorified the guy's pain and misery, but he brought it on himself. The girl though, she was actually trying to progress with her life--

Oh my gosh, this movie is my life. I am going to end up childless and die in a freak bus/bike accident.

**For Sale**
Bicycle, one owner, collapsable baskets over the back tire. Will throw in tire pump, water bottle, and bike lock for free.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I like being single. I'm not saying that I don't want to be in a relationship, quite the opposite actually, but I am pretty content with my life. It is what it is, and I should make the very best of it. I thought, like most young Mormon girls, that I'd be married and probably have a kid on the way by the time I was 21. I specifically remember thinking, when I turned 16, that I would be married within the next 5 years. Whoa boy, am I relieved that I turned out to be wrong about that!

One of my biggest peeves is when people complain about their relationship status. Once and while, in the company of close friends, over a pint of ice cream, is one thing, but on a daily or semi-daily basis is just ridiculous. In front of a whole group of people at church just makes me want to punch you, especially if you were born in the 90's. I've met so many people who I honestly don't think believed that life would begin for them until they were married, that as a person, their relationship status defined them. I really hate that mentality. How can you expect to be a partner in a relationship when you don't even have confidence in who you are as an individual? Only you can "complete" yourself- nobody else can do that for you. Besides that, it's just downright annoying having to listen or read post after post on Facebook about how you hate being single. Really, is there anyone that loves being alone? No, but I can guarantee you that complaining about it isn't going to help get you a date. And while you are at it, do something to improve yourself and most importantly, have some fun!

And now for some light entertainment.

When I was 14, I decided it would be awesome to stick 2 of those teeny tiny Cert mints up my nose. I was goofing off with a bunch of equally weird friends and I thought it would be funny, and it was...until my nose started burning with the fire of a thousand hells. The horrible thing about having a burning sensation within your nostrils is that, unlike when your mouth is burning, you can't exactly douse the inside of your nose in liquid. I guess you could inhale milk or water, but I'm pretty sure that would hurt equally as much as the burning mintiness. Another thing about stuffing mints up your nose is that when the burning starts, a panic sets in and you may suddenly inhale, causing those tiny mints to become lodged up your nasal canal in that awkward spot where your finger just can't reach. By the time you do manage to find a way to dislodge the mint, your eyes are watering in both gratitude that you finally got the mint out of your face, and pain because the burning is so intense you are sure your brain is about to melt. After this experience, you vow to never, ever, try sticking anything else up your nose again and to share this piece of wisdom with all of those that are around you.

You're welcome.


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I was inches from being in a major car accident tonight. I was in a double turn lane and when the arrow turned green, I started to go. I was distracted when the car next to me started to make a u-turn when suddenly this guy comes barreling through the intersection doing at least 45. Hi either didn't realize his light was red or had been trying to speed through before it turned- either way, I could see the whites of his beady little eyes as he sped right past me, he was that close. If I had gone right when my light had turned, he would have creamed me on the driver's side for sure, but for some reason, I delayed going. It happened so fast that I didn't even have time for that adrenaline rush that usually comes- I was just in shock. I was on my way to the temple tonight when this happened and when I finally got there and sat down, I realized that I could just as easily have been lying on a table in the ER at that very moment.

Yeah, a little dramatic, I know (I have a very, very active imagination), but it got me thinking about trials and burdens. We're all given challenges in this life and we try to deal with them the best we can, but what about the trials we aren't given? Have you ever stopped to wonder, when you are in the midst of a crisis or difficulty, what additional pains you have either been, or are currently are being, spared from? Think of how many blessings you receive on a daily basis without even realizing. I'm sure one day, when we can see the bigger picture, we will all be amazed at just how blessed we were, even during the hardest of times when it seemed like no one was there.

I believe that we are only given as many difficulties and challenges as we can handle. Yeah, sometimes they push us right to the edge but it's like when you are training with weights- you aren't going to get results until you push your muscles to the point of fatigue and your muscles start shaking. If you don't push yourself to that point, then you haven't reached your maximum and broken enough tissue to build more. It seems kind of backwards, having to break your muscle to generate new growth, but it works. I think the same thing can be said about life. If you aren't pushed to your max, then you never know how strong you are. I also think that it's through these challenges that you come to know yourself better- who you are, what you believe in, and how you want to progress.

I'm a firm believer in gratitude. I've learned through experience that attitude is everything and life is just so much easier when you look for the good in the world. Without gratitude, it's hard to find hope that things will improve, and without hope, what's the whole point of this life? Sometimes it's an effort, but I try really hard to acknowledge all of the good things in my life- when you start thinking about all of the good that surrounds you, it's kind of hard to stop.

So, the gist of this whole serious conversation is this: If you stub your toe on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, stop cursing and be grateful that you even have a toe to stub. There are people in this world who do not have toes and would gladly endure the pain of the occasional stubbing just to have them.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

When I was 7, my family moved from Arizona to Utah. I remember our house smelled like old people for the first little while, probably in part because the house was built in the 70's and also, the previous owners were of a more elderly generation. Actually, they were probably only in their 50's, but to a 7 year old, 50 might as well be 90. 

So, I was in the second grade at the time. It was October, I believe, so school had already started and I was jumping in at kind of an awkward time. I remember being mortified in class when the teacher had us using parentheses. I had no idea what they were- we hadn't covered them yet at my previous school. I was really confused by her explanation and ended up using them like ((this)) instead of "this." She then pointed out how wrong I was in front of the whole class and laughed. It was shenanigans like this over the course of the next month or so that ended up with my mom going to the school and demanding that I be moved to a different class. The day before I was moved, my soon-to-be-ex teacher pulled me into a closet where she proceeded to cry and hug me. And that was the first time I experienced to joy of Karma.

One great thing about changing classes was that I was no longer in the same class with my name twin. Yep, there were two Megan Wrights in the second grade- why they decided to put us in the same class, I will never understand. As the newer of the two MW's, I was asked to change my name on my school records so that the admins could differentiate between the two of us. The name I was thereafter known us upon the records of the Jordan School District was Meggie. Yep, Meggie. I hated it. It followed me around like a curse, even into Middle and High school. 

I was 14 when we moved to Oklahoma and I was so excited when I got to Middle school and was able to just be Megan. I had one year of having my name all to myself before I entered High school and found out that there was another Megan Wright in the grade ahead of me. I was mistakenly called to the principle's office on multiple occasions, mostly for disciplinary action, although onetime a whole bouquet of roses arrived for her and I contemplated taking them all for myself. Getting called out of class didn't bother me- any excuse to get out of class, right?- but the one thing that really burned me happened during my Sophomore year. 

I worked really hard that year to join as many clubs and organizations as possible- I was in choir, orchestra, drama, service club, spanish club, and even chess club (I still have no idea how to play- I joined only so that I could spend a few precious minutes each week in close proximity to one of my high school crushes). I know there were more because when all was said and done, I ended up on like, 15 different pages of my yearbook. Unfortunately, the OTHER MW ended up with the credit for most of those pages and I ended up with only a few pages correctly attributed to me. It's taken 10 years, but I think I'm finally over it. Or not. 

The moral of this story is this: please, don't call me Meggie. I like Megan or, if you really want to endear yourself to me, Meg is even better. 


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

You wouldn't know it to look at me, but for a white girl, I'm actually a pretty good dancer. I think I could hold my own in a Ricky Martin vs. Me, shake-n-shimmy contest. This is mostly due to the years I spent locked away in my room choreographing dance moves to the top 40's. I'm pretty sure winning "Best Choreographer" in my 6th grade lip-synching competition had something to do with this.

Needless to say, I began taking Zumba classes with just a little bit of an ego and ended up being schooled by all the Latinas in my class. I swear, those girls must have been born shaking their hips. The only thing us Danish girls can do is bake, and yes, while food is the way to a man's heart (or so I'm told), I think it's safe to say that being able to swing your hips effortlessly gets the job done a little faster.

Maybe I just need to watch some more Shakira music videos.

This spring weather is driving me nuts. One day, it's absolutely perfect outside and I'm daydreaming of all the places I want to visit in Utah this spring/summer- Spiral Jetty, the Salt Flats, Moab, Vernal (aka Dinosaur Heaven), Bryce Canyon. Then the next day, winter shows up again and threatens to dump snow everywhere.

 There are not enough words to express how much I love Spring and Summer in Utah. Really, love is an understatement. Utah is so blissfully perfect in the summertime-hot in the day, perfect for adventuring (hiking! rafting! road tripping with the windows down!), and cool at night, perfect for roasting stuff over a campfire. I say "stuff" because there are so many things that taste amazing when cooked over an open flame. Hot dogs and marshmallows aside, I have to say that Swedish Fish and Starburst are actually pretty delightful. Weird, I know, but oh so good. And if you are unfortunate to invite me to your campfire, I will probably bring my guitar and play really poorly for you. You're welcome.

Besides all of the fun adventuring, getting to wear skirts and dresses without the added layer of tights is just so liberating. Bare legs, unite!

In summation, I'm Danish and I need to just embrace the fact that my people do not dance, probably due to the unfortunate wooden shoes we wore for years and years. You try getting your krunk on in those babies and see what happens.


Monday, March 12, 2012

L'chaim! I love life.

At least that's how I felt as I embarked on a new adventure today. I drove 100 miles to Delta, Utah just to see what it was all about, and then came back home. I've had an insatiable curiosity to see what lies beyond Utah Lake and today I decided to satisfy that need. I came home from church and the thought of hanging out in my basement apartment on such a glorious day put me in a bad mood, so I packed a lunch, grabbed my camera, and Google mapped my way out of Utah County for the afternoon.

I am equal parts spontaneous and adventurous, but I'm also a little bit of a chicken and I've put off going on adventures because I've been stuck on the notion that I need someone to go with. This week I finally decided that if I keep waiting for a sidekick, I'm going to miss out living my life! So, with this realization, I set off to the great unknown, to see what lies beyond the realm of my familiarity.

I love going on long drives. My family used to take long drives on Sunday afternoons. We would just drive somewhere, up into the mountains or into the country, and spend time together. Those are some of my favorite memories. Today, it was just me and my trusty stead, Wellington. Long drives almost always turn into something of a spiritual experience for me. Weird, I know, but I'm left alone with my own thoughts to keep me occupied and I can't help but marvel at the beauty of the world and feel more keenly my place in it.

My faith is so important to me, but I wouldn't know that if I hadn't gone through a period of time where it wasn't. I was always a good girl- I went to church, got up at 5:15 every morning to go to seminary, I dressed modestly and never swore. Then I went to BYU and rebelled. I lost touch with what I'd been taught growing up and, eventually, I lost my faith. I wasn't a bad girl, per se, but I wasn't squeaky clean good either.

I wandered for a few years, frustrated and lacking a sense of purpose, before I was finally given this fantastic book about the Atonement called, "Believing Christ." The gist of the book is that it's not enough to just believe IN Christ, but to Believe Christ. It's a fantastic little book, and it lays out the Atonement in a way that is so easy to understand and yet it leaves you feeling so fulfilled. When I read this book, I was just blown away by how beautiful the Atonement is. It was when I finally felt like I had at least a little bit of understanding of that act that I began to regain my faith.

It didn't happen overnight. It was an effort, but one that seemed so much easier than before. Since then, I've come to feel more complete as a person. I better understand my place in this world and I know that whatever comes my way is meant to and I can handle it. I've discovered that there is beauty in everything, even in the darkest of times; we just have to look a little harder, but it's there.

I'm still a little bit of a rebel, and I always will be, but it's my faith that really defines me. I love the Book of Mormon- It contains some of the most beautiful scriptures about the Savior and is such an amazing companion to the Bible.

I get carried away, please forgive me. This is what happens when I go on long drives. Me + nature= reflections of a spiritual nature.

In conclusion, I'm spontaneous! I'm independent! I'm a rebel! Also, I not only sing in the car, but I also dance. Yep, I'm that girl.